Scarlet and Gold
by Wish Upon Time
Summary: During the final battle, Hermione crashes through a mirror into the 10th Century. Will she find a way to return to Ron and Harry? Will she want to? Ron/Hermione/Godric Gryffindor
1. Chapter 1: Falling

Hermione barely had time to register Ron sprinting towards her before she felt the heat of the Fiendfyre sweep across her skin. Automatically, she spun and stumbled in the opposite direction to the flames, knowing Ron would catch her up in minutes. Her soles pounded on the floor, but her ears filled with the crackle and flare of the fire. Creasing her eyes, she risked a glance behind her and almost stopped as she realised neither Ron or Harry were to be seen amongst the flames. Cursing, she turned to scan the expanse before her, just in time to crash through a mirror.


	2. Chapter 2: Found

Hermione briefly glimpsed her image, brown eyes circled with exhaustion before she smacked into the mirror. The glass shattered and she crashed through the frame. She felt the sharp stab of glass in her palms and then her head meeting the floor of the Room of Lost Things with an angry thwack. Hermione grunted at the pain and forced herself back on her feet. Her vision spiralled and her ears rung with an insufferable buzz. She wobbled, leaning against the jagged mirror frame whilst frantically trying to realign her sight.

No angry flames met her eyes and aside from her frantic, ragged breaths, Hermione realised that the room was now still and silent. She fumbled for her wand, closing her eyes and then opening them with the word "lumos".

A rapid glow spread from the tip of her wand and danced across the shards of glass that littered the floor. She blinked slowly, her chest heaving with fraught breaths and lifted her wand higher. The room, seconds ago crammed with vials, broomsticks and fiendfyre. The room was empty.

Hermione wasn't entirely sure how long she had sat amongst the mirror fragments. The slices in her hands had started to clot and crust and the trails on her face had dried to salty streaks.

_Ron. Harry. _The names knocked dully at her head, threatening to burst out of it. She stood up, her fingers finding her wand and gripping it loosely.

"Lumos Maximus." The spell burst, bathing the sparse room in honey tones. Bleakly, Hermione stumbled towards the door she hadn't noticed before. Hope surged as she considered the likelihood that she hadn't gone far, that the mirror was some deranged illusion. Shakily, she pushed at the door, which opened easily into a stone-walled corridor that Hermione recognised.

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy hoggy Hogwarts. _The chant sung in gleeful insanity in her head. Hermione jogged along the familiar passage, ears pealed for any sign of her friends. She leapt onto the staircase as it started to swing around to the left and took the steps two at a time. Reaching the top, she paused, waiting for the staircase to complete its arc. Her eyes locked on a lone figure as the staircase crunched into place and she raised her wand.

"Who are you?" The young Gryffindor's voice didn't waver.

The lady raised an eyebrow. Her dark hair was in stark contrast to her pale skin and laid straight down her back. Her robes were dark blue velvet, gathered loosely with a golden girdle and her expression reminded Hermione of Professor McGonagall on a bad day.

"I am Professor Ravenclaw, and you are in trouble."


	3. Chapter 3: Explaining

Hermione felt very conscious of her torn jeans as she sat opposite the founder of Ravenclaw house and tucked a section of her matted hair behind her ear. After meeting abruptly on the stairs, the young woman had marched Hermione very firmly through corridors to what she could only assume was an office of sorts. The small, round room was panelled in a deep, reddish wood – possibly mahogany, and lined from floor to ceiling with shelves. Hermione's hands ached to grasp the familiarity of a book, though there were none she recognised. Pages of parchment had been roughly bound together with elegant script depicting titles. Her eyes devoured the words. Rowena Ravenclaw pursed her lips as she considered the girl before her.

"In which house are you girl? I have not seen you before. You will need to explain why you are out of your chambers after dark and furthermore…" her gaze swept over Hermione's knees and lingered on her bloodied hands. "Why you wear such distasteful breeches."

Hermione bit her lip hard to stop it trembling. For once in her life, she found it hard to form words.

"I can explain."

Rowena shifted in her straight-backed chair "So I can hope."

"I –I am not from here," she began weakly. "I am from a different time – from the, ah, future."

Even as she spoke the words, Hermione could see the lady's brows furrowing in disbelief at the sound of them.

"No – I'm telling the truth. You have to believe me! I need to get back. Voldemort is going to – and I left Ron and Harry. You have to help me – I don't know – but you're smart, maybe you could –"

Hermione was cut off by an abrupt hand held up to silence her. She gazed at the professor in dismay.

"There are many ways to enter a normal abode, but Hogwarts castle limits such mundane transportation. It is not possible to apparate within these walls. Nor could you have simply walked through the door. Calling this to mind, I can reconcile that you arrived by more unusual means. However…" her eyes narrowed "journeying through time has been attempted many times – I myself have researched the area thoroughly! You insult me to insinuate its conceivability – nay, the certainty of it!"

"But it's true Professor! Please – I'm not lying! I am, well, was a student at this school in the twentieth century. Use a truth telling spell – or, or veritserum. Please!" Hermione beseeched desperately.

Rowena Ravenclaw sighed "I fear your mind has been altered by a trauma. Renkles!"

Almost immediately, there was a familiar pop and a house elf appeared, twisted his ears in its mousy hands.

"The goblet from the shelf in my private chambers, with haste."

The elf nodded eagerly and disappeared to return moments later with a silver goblet. Rowena gestured towards Hermione who accepted the vessel and without a moments hesitation, downed the cranberry-toned contents.

"Dismissed Renkles."

The raven-haired lady leant back in her chair before addressing Hermione.

"Your name?"

"Hermione Jean Granger."

"The date of your birth?"

"19th September – the 9th month – 1979 AD." Hermione looked relieved. "You see-"

"Wait, child. How did you come to be in Hogwarts?"

Hermione sought her mind for the truthful answer but her lips found it first "I belong here."

The lady stood, and Hermione followed her with her eyes warily.

"Follow."

Hermione traipsed after her, following the sweep of the blue robe. Her head was hung in exhaustion. Having been more or less on the road for the past year had worn her down, and she hadn't slept for…for…well she couldn't quite calculate the hours, her mind was blurred with tiredness. Her heart ached as she remembered Ron and Harry in their battle once more. Would they still be alive? She shook her head lightly, she couldn't allow herself to think like that.

She was lead to a tapestry of a milkmaid.

"Password?" the milkmaid enquired, not looking up from the cow she was milking.

"By the moon and stars," the professor answered fluidly, and stepped through the centre of the woven threads. Hermione followed into a simple room, with a four poster bed and an empty fire grate.

"Sleep child." Said the young woman, not unkindly.

"But – I thought that…" Hermione began.

"Sleep. You are exhausted. We will talk more in the 'morrow. For now, I am satisfied that you are no threat."

Hermione crawled onto the large bed, not waiting for the other woman to leave. As her eyes closed, her mind relaxed to sleep almost immediately. Her last thought as she drifted between the barrier of wakefulness and dreams was that veritserum was clear, not red.


	4. Chapter 4: Waking

Slim fingers of winter light curled around the heavy drapes and tickled Hermione's face. She nestled her face deeper into her pillow and blurrily opened her eyes. Absentmindedly, she stroked the thick quilt that had bunched under her chin. A fire burned merrily in the grate across the room and she gazed at it for a few seconds, lost in the flames.

Hermione bolted upright with a gasp. The memories flooded back in a single, tumbling stream. _Room of lost things; fire; mirror; falling; Rowena Ravenclaw._ She was in the past, and Ron and Harry were fighting Voldemort without her. She bit her knuckles in frustration and choked back the despair that threatened to overwhelm her. _You're a Gryffindor, Hermione, pull it together. You're smart. You can solve this. Just find a way to get back to the moment before you went through the mirror. _She told herself furiously. _Back to Ron…_a small voice in her head couldn't help adding.

Determined, she swung her legs out of bed. She was still wearing the jeans that she had been when she crashed through the mirror and the denim was torn and stained from the months on the run with her friends. As she swept the covers of her bed back with the habit of 17 years, a bundle wrapped in coarse cloth appeared on them. Raising her eyebrows, Hermione deftly unfolded it and let the contents fall onto the bed. Glancing briefly at the black fabric, she reached for the scrap of parchment.

_Miss Granger,_

_This is the standard attire of Hogwarts students prior to being claimed by a house. Kindly wear it when you meet me and my fellow founders in the Great Hall as soon as possible to discuss your future at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_Should you need directions, I am sure one of the students will come to your aid._

_Professor Ravenclaw._

The letter was headed with an eagle that shuffled its inked feathers proudly as she read. Hermione placed the message to one side. _Well then._

After performing some basic cleaning spells on herself, wishing that she could have a bath, Hermione donned the robe as requested. It was cut simply, covering her body to her toes. The sleeves were tight and then flared at the wrists and there was a girdle of black to gather the slack material around the waist. Smiling wryly at her battered trainers, Hermione muttered an enchantment and transformed them into supple leather boots.

Not bothering to look in the mirror above the fireplace, she climbed out of the portrait and retraced her steps from yesterday to the familiar staircases. Her feet knew the halls she was treading and within minutes she was heaving the large oak door of the Great Hall open.

Four faces met hers with obvious interest. Hermione mentally ticked them off in her head. Rowena Ravenclaw, she knew. The plump, red-headed woman who Hermione immediately connected to Mrs Weasley in her mind, had to be Helga Hufflepuff. The pensive, dark haired man was Salazar Slytherin and the proud man that stood beside him…Hermione surveyed the founder of her house curiously. There was something about him that reminded her of Harry. He was tall, and dressed in scarlet robes that blended with his orange hair to give the impression of a flame. Hermione judged him to be in his late twenties and quickly calculated that the school had been founded around 2 years ago. Godric Gryffindor and his fellow male founder rose to their feet as she entered. She couldn't help but notice Slytherin's eyes sliding up and down her body as she walked towards the long table.

"Miss Granger," Professor Ravenclaw began in her clear voice, her vibrant eyes locking with the younger woman's. "Having explained your situation to my fellow founders, we have a recommendation for your immediate fate."

"I need to go back to my time," Hermione interjected immediately.

The raven-haired lady held up a hand to stop her.

"I thought you would wish to return, and it may be that one day my research finds a way. For now, it seems wise that you stay here. I suppose you would be in your seventh year?"

Hermione nodded vaguely, her thoughts racing. It was the most logical solution.

"In that case, I propose that you begin classes within the next day or so. Of course, lessons will stop for the Winter break of Cristes Maesse in a short while, but that cannot be helped. Which classes hold your interest most?" The professor clasped her hands under her chin and leaned forward eagerly.

Hermione smiled, although it was more of a grimace really. _Trust you to have to travel back in time to find your soul mate Hermione Granger._

"Well, most subjects really. I've always loved Charms and Transfiguration, I'm particularly interested in animagus forms and how they're linked to one's patronus. Ancient Runes is fascinating. I suppose I'm okay at potions, but so much of it relies on instinct which is rather frustrating. I find Divination too wooly…and Muggle Studies is rather basic…" She trailed off, noticing how Rowena's eyes shone. Glancing at the men, she saw that Godric Gryffindor was smiling wryly, his eyes dancing with merriment.

"It seems, my dear Rowena, that you have found your kin." He chuckled, his voice smooth and melodious. "Miss – Granger, was it not? How much do you know of the Hogwarts houses?"

Hermione met his eyes "They each value different things. Students are sorted into houses based on attitude and ability. Slytherins are cunning and powerful…"

At this, a slow, measured smile spread over the Slytherin founder's face.

"Ravenclaws are smart and logical; Hufflepuffs are friendly and hardworking…"

The plump woman seated by Rowena smiled encouragingly and nodded. The Gryffindor founder stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"And Gryffindors? What say you of them?"

"Gryffindors are known for bravery and chivalry." Hermione finished simply.

The tall man smiled his approval. "Well, I'll barter my hat that I can predict which you'll be."

Rowena Ravenclaw – _Professor Ravenclaw_ – Hermione reminded herself, stood to signify the end of the meeting.

"You will be sorted tomorrow."

Hermione nodded eagerly and then recalled from 'Hogwarts: A History' exactly what the sorting process in the early years involved. _Oh no…_


	5. Chapter 5: Sorted

_**Thank you so much to my reviewers! It's amazing to get some feedback **___

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, sadly, and the sorting "tasks" mainly come from Pottermore.**_

Hermione spent the afternoon in the place where she felt most at home, the library. She was pleased to see that it looked little different from in her time. Rows and rows of bookshelves filled the walls, grouped in sections of interest. Many of the "books" were in the form of scrolls or simply parchment bound with ribbon or twine. Hermione ran her fingers lovingly along the polished shelves as she walked quietly through them. Eventually she came to what she was looking for. Her eyes roamed the shelf hungrily and settled on a small bundle of parchment bound with rough leather.

She eased it from in-between the much larger books and ran her finger over the carefully penned words - 'Journeying in Time: A study'. Hermione smiled with satisfaction as she noted the author. Of course Rowena Ravenclaw, the founder of the smartest Hogwarts house would have written her thoughts down. Finding a small, hidden nook at the far end of the library, the young brunette curled herself tightly into a large leather chair and began to read.

…_My conclusion is a frustrating one. It appears that time travel, as one might term the journey towards the present or past, is simply not conceivable. I fear that that one must first have a link to the future or past, a metaphorical anchor if you will. One must call to the different time, but the time must also answer. Thus, the intrinsic relationship is necessary, but impossible to obtain._

Hermione held the last page for a long time, staring at the words of the last paragraph. Eventually, she shuffled the parchment back into a neat pile and wrapped the leather around them methodically, her mind racing with endless possibilites.

Her stomach growled angrily as she placed the book back on the shelf and Hermione wondered vaguely what time it was. Trailing through the library, she realised that it was dark outside. The golden light that bathed the rooms came from the candles that adorned them, not the windows. She smiled ruefully, it wasn't the first time she had missed several meals by being absorbed in a book. Instead of turning right as she came out, towards the room she was using, she turned left and headed down the stairs towards the kitchens.

"Oh – sorry!" Hermione mumbled. Rubbing her nose, she smiled apologetically at the girl she had bumped into as she turned the corner. The girl brushed her apology away with a shrug.

"Worry not, I was in a dream once again."

The girl was roughly Hermione's age, wearing robes very similar to the ones that Hermione was. Rather than a black girdle, the girl's was a honey yellow – the same colour that edged the neckline of the robes. _Hufflepuff? _The girl had fluffy hair, the colour of marzipan, and cornflower blue eyes. She was pretty, Hermione supposed, in a pleasantly-plump country-girl sort of way. Her eyes were kind, but she screwed her nose at Hermione's scrutiny.

"My name is Thea – I can see you must be new, but what are you doing out of bed?"

"What are you doing out of bed yourself?" Hermione countered immediately, crossing her arms.

Thea raised her eyebrows "I'm head girl, I'm patrolling the corridors to make sure that people like you are in bed!" She retorted, a smile twitching at her lips.

Hermione felt herself blush, "sorry." She muttered, cursing herself. "I'm Hermione Granger – and erm, well yes I am new. I was just hungry." Her stomach whined its agreement. "I missed dinner," she finished lamely.

Thea laughed, and Hermione amended her thoughts – the girl was beautiful, not pretty.

"Well, Hermione Granger, allow me to accompany you to the kitchen!" She swept an arm around Hermione's shoulders and guided her down the hallway.

"Kitchen's this way, don't tell the first years – Professor Hufflepuff likes them to find it themselves. She says they have to earn her sweet rolls! She won't mind me showing you though…"

Thea chattered almost constantly and Hermione couldn't help warming to her. They reached the painting of the fruit and Hermione almost reached forward, but stopped herself just in time and tucked her hair behind her ear instead. It would be a lot easier if the other students assumed she was a regular student like them, and new students didn't know how to get into the kitchen.

Thea glanced at her curiously and tickled the pear. "You're so thin! Are you sure you just missed the one dinner?" she joked as they climbed through.

Hermione grimaced and chuckled "Well…you know…" she said vaguely, recalling the half-hearted cooking efforts that she, Ron and Harry had consumed on their travels. "I guess I missed lunch too." _And breakfast…_In truth, Hermione couldn't quite remember the last time she had eaten a good meal.

Thea looked horrified, her hands flying to her own, rounded stomach to emphasise the shock.

"How are you still standing?" She demanded, guiding Hermione into a chair next to the crackling fire and immediately busying herself by rummaging on shelves.

Hermione smiled "I've just been so busy, I suppose I didn't really think about it."

"I could never not think about food," Thea admitted glumly, as she piled sweet rolls onto a plate and motioned for Hermione to eat. Hermione complied, launching herself on the food like a lioness and swallowing quickly. Thea looked on with wide eyes and disappeared around the corner for a moment, returning with two metal goblets and a jug.

"You have to try this new drink that Professor Hufflepuff came up with recently," she urged, the pride for her Head of House clear in her voice. "It's called Butterbeer, but it's not really beer…well, just try it, it is delicious. You can have it cold, but it's best hot." She waved her wand over the goblets she had just filled and muttered a heating spell.

Hermione accepted the goblet gratefully with a wry comment. "Thanks – Butterbeer you say? Sounds great."

Once Hermione's hunger had subsided, and the frothy Butterbeer had been thoroughly drained, the girls headed back out of the kitchen. Hermione felt warm and satisfied, suddenly exhausted. As soon as her mind voiced that thought, a wrench of shame followed. _Ron and Harry could use a hot meal._

"When are you being sorted?" Thea interrupted her guilt trip.

"Tomorrow." Hermione sighed, thinking about the sorting process she had read about in her beloved book.

Thea looked at her kindly. "You will be absolutely fine, Hermione. It s worse for older students in a way, because you're more developed as a person – but do NOT listen to the children's tales. There really isn't a right or wrong choice in the process."

Hermione chuckled, she could see why Thea was Head girl and wondered when the houses had begun to lose the united feel that Thea implied.

"Well I guess I'll find out in the morning one way or another."

Thea surprised her with a tight embrace. "See you tomorrow, Hermione Granger."

Hermione woke early the next day, snug under the heavy blankets. After a few moments of nuzzling her face into the pillow, she gave in and padded over to the mirror above the fireplace. Hermione scowled at her image. Her brown eyes looked big in her face and stared back at her as she examined herself critically. Her face was pale and thinner than she remembered. Her usually shiny (if bushy) hair was matted in places and hung in tangles by her cheeks. She pulled a face at her reflection. _You look a mess._

Moving quickly, in the hopes of not being caught in the woollen nightdress that had been ready for her the night before, Hermione snuck along to where the Prefects bathroom had been in her time. Approaching the door, she gazed at the smooth wood hopefully.

"Pine fresh?" She tried.

_Nothing._

"Okay…Sea breeze?"

Hermione frowned. "Pine wood; Ocean fresh; Forest…scent…come on!" She reeled them off impatiently.

"Sea salt." Ventured a pleasant tenor voice behind her, and the door swung open. Hermione winced.

"Erm, thanks – thank you." She cringed as she saw who it was.

Godric Gryffindor smirked "A well behaved Ravenclaw sneaking into the Prefects bathroom?" He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I may have to reconsider bartering that hat with Salazar." With that, he walked off, whistling a cheerful tune to himself.

"What –hey, I am a prefect-" Hermione spluttered, as he ignored her and carried on his way.

She groaned and concentrated on getting into the large tub. Sinking under the warm water, she swam to the other side underneath the surface and rose with a gasp. She had forgotten how amazing it felt to _feel_ clean, not just be clean. Poking dubiously at the bars of soap and goop by the side of the pool made her wish for her sleakeasy lotion. Eventually, she opted for a shimmery, gloopy one scented like elderflower and massaged it into her hair, revelling in the sensation. She dunked her head under the water a few times to rinse it and then selected lemon soap and began to scrub the rest of her skin roughly.

When she finally got out, her skin was pink and tingly, but she felt beautifully clean. The mermaid in the window flicked her tail and hair simultaneously, sneering at Hermione. Ignoring the mermaid pointedly, she cast a speedy drying spell over her body and hair, followed by several detangling and smoothing charms on her hair. Hermione dressed quickly, with slightly more care than yesterday. Before leaving, she took a minute to glance in the mirror and smiled grimly.

"Better."

Now all she had to do was survive being sorted.

Hermione walked into the Great Hall, which bustled with the voices of a sea of students. Her eyes flickered from side to side. She was just about to sit down at the Gryffindor table when she spotted Thea waving frantically from the Hufflepuff table and gesturing at a seat next to her. Hermione slid in beside her with a grateful smile and began to fill her plate with sweet rolls and cinnamon toast. Thea chattered to several people, holding about four conversations at once. Hermione contented herself with steady munching, watching the four founders at the head table carefully.

Eventually, Professor Ravenclaw stood and walked to a more prominent position. She raised her hands, and the room quickly fell silent.

"We have a new student – Miss Hermione Granger, would you please come forward for the sorting ceremony."

Hermione forced herself to hold her chin up as she walked to the front of the hall, very aware of the eyes that followed her. She felt like folding her arms across her chest, but pride made her swing them freely by her side. Salazar Slytherin met her at the front, his eyes locked firmly on hers, as if he could see into her soul. Hermione repressed a shudder.

"Relax," he breathed, placing his hands on her shoulders to turn her around. He pointed his wand at her head and Hermione struggled not to turn around a hex him to oblivion. The other founders closed around her to form a circle. The women stood each side of her and Gryffindor faced her. The women were smiling encouragingly, but the man before her looked thoughtful, curious.

"Enchantia personaium icidica!" They whispered together.

Hermione instinctively closed her eyes and opened them to a calm breeze. She stood at a crossroads. To her left, she could see a glimpse of sparkly sea and dull, grey sand mingled with drift wood. In front, the path led to a forest, and was quickly swallowed by emerald and peridot trees. Hermione took a deep breath and started towards her right, towards the towering castle with its impressive towers.

Immediately, the view changed: to one of boxes. Hermione wondered whether this was a logic test and looked at them anxiously. She glanced quickly at a large pewter one, dismissing it almost immediately as she heard small squeaks – most likely Hinkypunks. The small, plain box caught her interest but she rejected in on reading the inscription _'I only open for the worthy'_. Most likely, she _wasn't_ worthy, and she didn't want to waste her choice. That left the ornate golden casket, promising secret knowledge and the polished jet box with the curious rune. Hermione bit her lip and reached for the jet one – hissing with annoyance as the scene changed once again.

A small cottage was nestled between two trees. Behind it, a spring bubbled into a clear stream that danced through the waving grass and dandelions. A young girl played with dandelion clocks, her rosy cheeks puffing out as she blew the seeds. Hermione could hear a woman singing just inside the door. It was idyllic, and yet Hermione felt uncomfortable and approached the scene cautiously. As soon as she took a step, the child ran into the cottage. She paused, confused. Was she really that terrifying?

Two more steps. The cottage burst into flames and Hermione stumbled back with a small scream. The fire quickly caught the thatched roof and the surrounding trees and burned gleefully higher. Hermione reached for her wand and cursed as she couldn't find it. With a look of despair etched on her face, she sprinted towards the house, just as a woman came out and grabbed her arms.

"No – don't go in there!" The woman cried, pushing Hermione away. "It – it's too late! Just go!" She began to sob, collapsing on the floor and attaching herself to Hermione's legs. "Help me!"

"No –NO!" Hermione pushed the distraught woman away and stumbled towards the house. The heat of the flames swept over her skin and she cringed as her mind took her back to Ron and Harry running from the fiendfyre. Forcing the memory to one side, she gritted her teeth and waded through the smoke.

"Hey – hey, where are you?" she called desperately, her eyes watering. She spotted a lump cuddled in the far corner and fought her way across to the unconscious child. She coughed and scooped the child into her arms. Her head swam as her lungs battled for oxygen. The flames twisted around them, so bright that Hermione was forced to squint. Bracing herself, she turned her body towards the door, covered the child as best she could and threw her body towards the exit.

She tripped over threshold and fell clumsily, straight into Godric Gryffindor's waiting arms. Hermione gulped in the air, aware of the stillness that reigned in the Great Hall. The Gryffindor leader supported her firmly but gently, not letting her fall even as she dug her nails into his forearms in a tight grip.

"It's over, you are finished." He said quietly, his voice a subtle hum in her ear. Hermione managed to control her breathing and steadied her feet. Abruptly, he let her go and folded his arms, his eyes gleaming. She looked at the other founders, they were frowning and Slytherin looked…well remarkably sour. Rowena broke the circle to let Hermione out.

"Thank you Hermione, back to your seat."

Hermione managed to stumble back to Thea, not caring what she looked like. Thea grasped her hands as she reached her.

"Well done – but what did you do? They look annoyed." The girl whispered curiously.

"I- nothing. I just, the fire-"

"What fire?" Thea asked, her brow furrowed with confusion.

Hermione frowned and looked towards the circle of founders, still huddled together talking urgently. They remained like that for some time, and students began hushed whispers to each other. Eventually, they formed a line facing the tables and the hall fell quiet once more.

"Thank you for your patience," Professor Ravenclaw spoke clearly into the room. "We have now decided." She smiled, but it was strained.

Godric Gryffindor's voice rang out. "I claim Hermione Granger as a Gryffindor."

_**You'll find out more about what happened in the "test" soon…and Hermione will begin to get closer to a certain someone. I want this to be a realistic relationship over time, so stick with me….and review! Please review. **____** x**_


	6. Chapter 6: Teaching

Hermione was once again curled in the leather chair in the far corner of the library. Since she was excused from lessons for the rest of the day, she had been poring over Professor Ravenclaw's book since breakfast. She had remembered to go down to the Great Hall for lunch, but had skipped dinner again. Truthfully, she was trying not to think too much about the sorting ceremony. Thea had never heard of the fire scene being used to sort students, and the founders had looked everything from concerned to angry. Hermione sighed and shook her head furiously, trying to stop thinking about it. She was a Gryffindor, that much she knew. _You're not staying anyway. _She slammed the book on the table, harder than she meant to.

"Oh – I-I beg your pardon, I-"

Hermione looked round irritably to see a petite girl, looking worried and slightly pink in the face. She was followed by a tall, skinny boy. Both wore Hogwarts robes; the girl had a scarlet girdle, whilst the boy had a blue tunic over his billowy white shirt.

"No, it's okay." Hermione said, smoothing her face out of the frown. "I was just –ah, did you want something?"

The girl looked at the boy beseechingly and he answered "We usually come here to study, but do not concern yourself; we can go elsewhere." He smiled politely.

"Oh, no please! I – that is, you can stay. I don't mind."

The girl looked like she'd rather wrestle with the giant squid than sit near Hermione but the boy guided her into a high-backed chair before sitting himself opposite.

"Are you not the new Gryffindor?" he asked suddenly, and then looked awkward. "What I intend is, my name is Thomas – and this is my good friend Eleanor."

"I'm Hermione, and yes I'm new."

"A pleasure Hermione, I hope you find Hogwarts welcoming."

With that, he turned his attention to Eleanor. Hermione picked up her book again, not quite able to concentrate. The boy and the girl were deep in conversation. Eleanor was timidly flourishing her wand at an acorn, her eyes screwed up in concentration. Thomas was watching her patiently and quietly murmuring encouragement. Hermione watched as he gently corrected her hand position. The dark-haired girl flushed and shied away from his touch.

Hermione frowned, was this girl actually a Gryffindor? She observed the girl's hand movements carefully. She was obviously trying to summon it non-verbally.

"You shouldn't be moving your wand after it's pointed at it." She interrupted. "And how are you thinking?"

Eleanor looked devastated and Thomas looked up in surprise.

"I mean," said Hermione more gently "you should concentrate on the object coming to you, not on the object where it is at the moment – say 'accio' in your head too. And you only need a small flick. Watch."

She drew out her wand, hating that it was Bellatrix's, and pointed it at the acorn. With a tiny upwards motion, the acorn flew into her waiting hand.

"Now you." Hermione urged, holding it out.

Thomas nodded supportively, although he looked a little irritated. Eleanor inhaled deeply and focused on the acorn. The first time she flicked her wand nothing happened, but the second time it twitched. Thomas' eyes lit up and he sat up a little straighter. The third time, the acorn finally whizzed over to the girl. She fumbled to catch it and a delighted smile adorned her face. Hermione smiled smugly. _There._

"I'm in your debt." Eleanor beamed at her.

"That was excellent Eleanor!" Thomas urged. "Professor Ravenclaw will be so proud of you. Hermione – would I be correct to assume you are, like us, in your seventh year?"

"I am, yes." Hermione thought privately that Eleanor looked much too young to be in her last year.

"You will be in my dormitory then Hermione." The other girl smiled, seeming much more relaxed. "We should probably go back soon, it will soon be time for sleeping – I can show you Gryffindor tower."

"That would be aweso – great." Hermione sent the book back to its place on the shelf with a flick of her wand and followed the pair out of the library.

"Shall I see you back to your tower?" Thomas asked Eleanor, looking mildly disappointed when she shook her head. "I bid your good night then ladies." He bowed awkwardly and headed abruptly to the opposite side of the castle. Hermione walked leisurely with Eleanor; it was strange not having to hurry to keep up with Ron and Harry's long legs.

"So," Hermione felt compelled to break the rhythmic sound of their footsteps. "How long have you known Thomas then?"

Eleanor smiled wistfully. "We grew up in the same village. He aids me greatly…I-I fear I am not very accomplished at magic. Thomas is. He possesses a remarkable aptitude for it. I suppose that's why he's in Professor Ravenclaw's house."

"But Eleanor, you're in Gryffindor. That's a brilliant house!"

Eleanor looked at her curiously "You have a strange way with words Hermione."

"Oh, I-" Hermione stumbled, realising that she was going to have to adapt her language quite a lot to fit in to this era. "I spent a lot of time overseas, and I er, fear I obtained their way of speaking in part."

The other girl nodded sagely. They approached where Hermione knew the entrance of Gryffindor tower to be. She looked around in confusion and then remembered that the fat lady probably didn't exist yet. In her place was a portrait of a knight on a pony which Hermione recognised immediately.

"Sir Cadogan!" She exclaimed and then covered her mouth. _Idiot!_

"What rogues are these?!" The knight stirred and brandished his sword towards the girls. "Oh ladies, I beg your pardon. Password if you please?"

Eleanor giggled, "For glory."

The painted knight bowed solemnly and swung open to let them pass. Hermione was relieved to see that the common room looked much the same as in her time.

"Girls are on the right." Eleanor explained, tramping up the stairs. "Professor Gryffindor enchanted the stairs, so the boys can't get up."

This made Hermione chuckle – so that was who had done it.

"Only three beds?" she asked, surprised.

Eleanor nodded. "Hogwarts is a very select school. Only students with magical parents are allowed to attend."

"Oh."

"Arabella sleeps in the bed nearest to the door; the middle one belongs to me, so that leaves you with the one by the window." Eleanor winced apologetically. "I am afraid that there may be a slight draught."

Hermione shrugged, "It's okay, I quite like a breeze."

Long after Eleanor and Arabella - who seemed much louder than her other roommate- were asleep, Hermione lay awake. She rolled onto her side, huffing with frustration. The rough woollen nightdress itched and an owl hooted somewhere outside.

After a few moments, she slid out from under the covers and slipped over to the window. For December, it was a surprisingly clear night. Quickly conjuring herself a stool, Hermione settled down and leaned against the sill. To relax herself, she began to name the star constellations.

_Cassiopeia, Draco, Taurus…_

Was Ron doing the same? She banished the thought quickly. Ron wouldn't remember much from their Astrology lessons. _He probably has more important things to be thinking of anyway_. She ran a finger along her lips, remembering how his had felt on hers. How he had picked her up and swung her around like a child, just moments before she had crashed through that stupid mirror. Tears pricked at her eyes and she let them come.

_Leo, Regulus, Delphinius…_

**This chapter went in a completely different direction than I intended, but I hope you enjoyed meeting a few different characters. You'll be seeing a fair bit of them in Hermione's lessons - coming up in the next chapter! Thank you for reading, and please review!**


	7. Chapter 7: Jinxed

Hermione woke to the sound of her roommates nattering noisily as they combed their hair and tied their scarlet girdles. Sighing sleepily, she pulled herself out of bed.

"Morning," she offered the girls

"Yes, it is here again." Eleanor smiled. "Hermione, may I introduce Arabella."

Arabella was tall with thick, glossy hair that was much tamer than Hermione's. Her dark eyebrows arched sharply; giving her a sophisticated air that was ruined with the massive grin she gave Hermione.

"Well good morning Hermione, but tarry not! You will be dreadfully late if you do not make haste. I recommend you begin with that bird's nest atop your head!" She giggled and continued to run a comb through her own smooth hair to emphasise her point.

"Well, I-"

"It will be most excellent to have another girl in Gryffindor though. We are severely outnumbered by the men. I suspect that it is something to do with the sorting examination. I mean, a young lady rollicking through the forest unaccompanied is hardly becoming, is it?"

Hermione shut her mouth like a goldfish and silently began pulling on her robes. Eleanor glanced at her sympathetically.

"Of course, it is rather a benefit to us when it comes to the winter ball. In my fifth year, I was pleaded with to escort at least three young men. Oooh, Eleanor, did not Professor Hufflepuff mention that we may begin our dress robes in Household Charms today?"

Eleanor nodded quickly and Arabella smiled with smug satisfaction.

"I will see you at breakfast." She swept out of the room, her long hair dancing behind her.

By this time, Hermione was dressed and had glumly begun her usual charms on the 'bird nest'.

"Do not mind Arabella," Eleanor said soothingly. "She believes that the foundation of a joyous life is shiny hair."

"She's certainly forthright." Hermione scowled.

The girls headed down to the Great Hall for a breakfast of steaming porridge and honey. Hermione had begun grilling Eleanor about where they were up to in classes when she realised that the girl's attention was decidedly elsewhere. She followed her gaze to the Ravenclaw table and smiled knowingly.

"Eleanor?"

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Hermione. I did not hear what you were saying." She blushed prettily.

"I was just asking where you were up to in classes – and what do we have today?"

"Well, in potions, we have just begun advanced antidotes." Eleanor screwed up her brow in concentration. "In transfiguration, we've just finished vanishing spells. Household charms, well we've been learning about purifying water and advancing fermentation, you know for wine and the like. Duelling, we are continuing work on non verbal spells. Hmm…healing…"

"Wait – duelling? Healing?" Hermione had turned white. Oh no, I haven't done those before – I mean, I won't know anything." Her hands flew to her mouth at the horror of it all. "I'm going to fail aren't I? Oh no, oh no…" she began to mutter to herself desperately.

"Hermione." Eleanor looked concerned. "I'm sure you will not be behind. You taught me a non verbal spell did you not? That is advanced for our class."

Hermione calmed down slightly at this. _Of course you won't fail idiot. You'll just have to work hard to catch up. You can go to the library at dinner time and- _Her fraught thoughts were interrupted by a tugging at her sleeve.

"Hermione Granger?" the first year inquired, looking at her dubiously.

"Ye-es."

"I have your timetable." He handed the small scroll over and quickly disappeared. Hermione unrolled it with shaky hands and scanned the contents quickly.

"Household Charms; Transfiguration; Healing and Duelling." She reeled off faintly. "Only four lessons a day?"

Eleanor nodded, staring at Hermione in wide-eyed concern. "Yes well, we are expected to spend a great deal of time in private study in our seventh year. We also carry out a research project in the Spring – using a mixture of all the subjects, at least all of those which apply."

Hermione nodded vaguely. Her stomach felt like it was full of owls, let alone butterflies.

Seventh years from all houses crowded into a classroom for the first lesson. Hermione earned herself several curious looks, particularly from the male members of the class. She cringed inwardly, recalling Arabella's comments that morning. Professor Hufflepuff stood at the front ready, her smile warm and welcoming.

"Come in, come in – yes find a seat now. Oh wonderful. Well then let me see." Her brown eyes sparkled, "today, my dears, we will begin…" she paused and Hermione noticed Arabella and several other girls leaning forward excitedly. "We will begin our winter ball dress robes."

A happy gasp travelled around the room and eager eyes watched as the professor conjured several rolls of material. The professor looked satisfied with the response and began to model techniques for hemming and gathering. Eleanor and Hermione held back from the mass rush of girls to the fabrics. Once Arabella had emerged, dragging a roll of crimson velvet determinedly, Hermione bent over to stroke the fabrics that were left. Eleanor reached for brown linen and she couldn't help herself.

"Eleanor. Look- this one." She unrolled a swath of a vibrant green silk and ginned mischievously at her friend's nervous look. "It would bring out your eyes." She added, peering at the girl's face.

"Well, I-I suppose it would be a change." Eleanor accepted the fabric bravely and headed back to her desk, leaving Hermione on her own. The boys had risked creeping forward and the darker fabrics were vanishing quickly. Thomas sent her a quick nod as he claimed a roll of dark green linen. Hermione scanned the messy pile of the remaining fabrics. Her eyes lingered on a soft blue linen before settling on one right at the bottom of the pile. She pushed several fabrics to one side to reveal shimmering silk in a muted gold colour. She ran it over her hand thoughtfully. _Maybe with some cream, or white?_

Transfiguration was a lot more in her comfort zone. Professor Ravenclaw had them turning flowers into butterflies and back again. Hermione accomplished this easily. Her white rose bloomed effortlessly into a large butterfly and its wings returned to petals with a flick of her wand. She spent most of the lesson gently coaching Eleanor, whose flower was quivering its petals and fluttering two inches off the floor. Throughout the lesson, she felt the professor's eyes following her movements closely.

Healing was much better than Hermione had expected. The teacher – Professor Greenwood – had them blending beetle shells, rosemary and moonstone together to make a thick paste for bruises. All in all, by the time Hermione sat down at an empty desk for duelling, she was feeling remarkably cheerful.

Godric Gryffindor – _Professor Gryffindor_ -swept into the room, a simple red surcoat over his loose cream shirt. With an unnecessarily elaborate flourish of his wand, he vanished the desks and Hermione caught her quill just in time. She shoved it back in her bag, frowning. Her professor looked at her in amusement before addressing the class.

"Find a partner."

Hermione stood awkwardly to one side as chairs scraped and people paired off. She saw Eleanor looking guiltily at her from next to Thomas and shook her head slightly, smiling. Eventually, a Slytherin boy approached her and stood next to her sullenly, his arms folded.

"Non verbal spells," announced their teacher, strolling leisurely between the couples, "can give you an undisputed advantage in a duel. You can cast a jinx without giving them a moment to counter it. You may disarm them before they can expect it." He twitched his hand and Thea's wand flew into his. She smiled good naturedly and he passed it back to her.

"Today, you will attempt to disarm your opponent non-verbally. First person of each partner to succeed wins five points for their house. Begin."

Hermione groaned and turned to face her Slytherin partner. He had appeared to have started already as his face was creased with effort. She pointed her wand at him resolutely and his soared out of his grasp.

"I dropped it." He snarled, his fingers scrabbling for it.

Hermione scowled and waited for him to straighten before repeating her spell. Her partner's eyes grew wide.

"How- what?" he said faintly.

Godric Gryffindor appeared behind Hermione and spoke in a low growl. "Again."

The boy grabbed his wand, seeming to hold onto it with all his might. Hermione sent it flying towards her easily, not attempting to catch it. She was no seeker.

Several couples had paused and were now watching. The professor stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Disarm me." He said quietly, striding to a more prominent position.

"Err, professor?"

"Disarm me!"

Hermione gripped her wand, flustered. Eventually she calmed her mind and focused on the spell. An invisible wall hit her as he countered her spell with ease.

She opened her mouth to protest.

"Disarm me." His eyes gleamed.

Gritting her teeth, she sent a jinx his way, causing the founder to begin a tap dance. The surprise on his face was evident as his feet drummed out a rhythm of their own accord. He grunted in astonishment and countered with a silent flick that set Hermione off in a sneezing fit.

"Achooooo!" She was laughing now, and without a thought, boldly charmed the founder's feet to grow to three times their normal size so that he struggled not to trip.

This carried on, until Hermione, still sneezing and now giggling from a tickling jinx finally attempted a disarming spell again. Godric Gryffindor, distracted by his tap dancing feet and the birds circling his head allowed his wand to travel a few inches out of his fingers before he grabbed it again.

With a flourish, he ceased the jinxes on both him and his student. They stared at each other across the hall. Him, breathing heavily, and looking incredulous. Hermione, triumphant, but hardly daring to breathe.


	8. Chapter 8: Settling

"You are dismissed." Professor Gryffindor growled with his eyes fixed firmly on Hermione.

Her classmates seemed disappointed, grumbling distinctly as they gathered their belongings. Hermione forced herself to scoop up her bag and started to join the throng of students heading out of the door.

"Not you, Miss Granger."

The professor hadn't moved from his position in the centre of the hall. He was turning his wand over in his hands thoughtfully. Hermione reluctantly made her way back to him.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Miss Granger, it would be an act of hubris to declare myself the finest duellist of this age. However, I _am_ the finest duellist that this age has seen for many years."

He paused, eyeing her slight build doubtfully.

"How can it then be, that you managed to disarm me? Not just this, but you disarmed me wordlessly! _You_, a student. If you had been Lady Rowena, I could come to terms with it. Or even Salazar… "

Hermione shifted her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. "I was lucky, that's all. I-I- caught you off your guard because of the jinxes."

He chuckled throatily. "Miss Granger, do you truly believe in lady luck?" Sitting on one of the oak benches, he motioned for her to do the same.

"No." She answered after a brief pause. " I think luck is simply a combination of adequate preparation and grasped opportunity. I mean, you can make liquid luck, can't you? But all that does is prompt you towards opportunities." She smiled, remembering Harry's adventure with Slughorn in her sixth year.

Godric Gryffindor quirked an eyebrow quizzically. "You attended Hogwarts in your time did you not?"

"Yes."

"Tell me, Miss Granger. Which house claimed you? Your mind is that of Rowena's kin. But I sense in your heart, you are different."

"I was almost a hatstall." Hermione admitted. "The hat couldn't decide between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. It seriously considered Ravenclaw, but ultimately decided I was more suited to Gryffindor."

"Forgive me – a, _hat stool_? A _hat_? Miss Granger, what is your meaning?"

"Oh…" Hermione avoided his eyes, feeling her face grow hot. "It doesn't matter, really. The sorting is just a bit different in my time."

"I see." He seemed to mull this over for a while, stroking his chin in a way that was almost familiar to Hermione now.

"Why was there a fire?" She blurted out, unable to stop herself. "In- in the test. None of the other students had a fire."

"One of the founders felt it was necessary to test your aptitude in a situation that demanded your true heart, rather than your mind, to shine through as the other scenarios had not."

"Oh." Hermione frowned at this and fiddled with a wavy strand of hair. "Which founder?"

"Me."

Hermione found herself staring determinedly at her boots, trying to hide her obvious pleasure. She had always wondered if the hat had made the right decision in the end. Hours spent in the library and a certain lack of arrogance had made her ponder whether she would have done better in Ravenclaw. _He wanted you for his house Hermione!_

"You're a curious witch, Miss Granger." The man said quietly, the intensity returning to his eyes as he looked at her. She found herself gazing back, the watery blue of his eyes reminding her of Ron.

Abruptly, she stood up and swept out of the room. Godric Gryffindor remained in the Great Hall, a smile playing in his eyes and on his lips.

"A curious witch indeed."

The days passed in a blur. Much to her relief, Hermione found that much of the content of her studies was similar to her present day classes. Despite missing all of her last year at Hogwarts, she found that the spells and skills she had picked up along the way more than made up for it. Household charms was easy, and she surprised herself by finding needlewandwork rather enjoyable, if a bit unchallenging. Healing, Transfiguration, Potions posed only a little more of a difficulty and Hermione was relieved that she was still achieving top marks in the 10th centaury. To her disgust, flying lessons were mandatory for all years. Regularly, she found herself cringing away from Salazar Slytherin's hands as he insisted on guiding her hands to the correct position on the broom handle. There was something about him that made her unsettled, and she couldn't help remembering his anti-muggleborn policy. Duelling quickly became one of her most anticipated lessons, although she refrained from doodling hearts around it on her timetable as she had in her second year.

All in all, Hermione found herself acclimatising easily to the drastic life change – a notion that made her feel sick whenever she admitted it to herself. She spent every free moment searching the library for any scrap of parchment that mentioned time travel and was decidedly frustrated with the lack of information. After re-reading Professor Ravenclaw's notes for the seventeenth time in the nine days since she had crashed through the mirror, she determined to speak to the witch personally. Hearing familiar voices, she quickly levitated the book back to its position on the high shelf and grabbed a non-descript stack of parchment instead.

"I just cannot understand it. Why she likes this place so much is a mystery."

"Some of us like to read, Arabella."

"And some of us prefer to live life to its full capacity instead of wasting it with ones nose lodged in the pages of – oh Hermione there you are!"

"Here I am." Hermione echoed, throwing her roommate a look of annoyance.

"Well come on. It's Market day in the village of Hogsmede and you simply must accompany us."

"We are going to look for jewellery for the ball." Eleanor added quietly with her signature half-smile.

Hermione was about to refuse when she had a thought. "Is there a wand shop?" She asked eagerly, dropping the heavy tome on the desk in front of her.

"You already have a wand!" Arabella protested, gesturing at the unyielding black stick that sat gingerly on the desk. "Why do you feel the need for another?"

"It's not mine – mine got broken, and this one used to belong to my grandmother." Hermione lied smoothly. "It doesn't feel right – doesn't work as well."

"There is a wand maker." Eleanor jumped in before Arabella could. "He lives in the village, I can show you where."

Half an hour later, the girls were bundled in thick, red woollen cloaks. Hermione drew the hood over her bushy hair. Whilst it wasn't quite as toasty as the bobble hats and scarves she was used to, it kept out most of the December chill. She had borrowed some sturdy boots from Arabella and they were making brisk footprints in the thick snow. Hogsmeade village looked remarkably similar to how she knew it, with its tiny bunches of higgledy piggledy houses nestled in rows. Missing, of course, where Zonko's, Honeyduke's and The Three Broomsticks – although Hermione did note a small, thatched tavern with a swinging sign naming it as 'The Dragon's Heart'.

Instead, the village was bustling with stalls selling everything from obscure potions ingredients; to dusty robes; to cages of imps. The girls pushed their way through the crowd. Arabella got distracted like a magpie by a glint of gold and disappeared in the opposite direction. Eleanor rolled her eyes, grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her out of the mass of people. She led her through petite, winding paths to a humble-sized house which she declared was that of the wand makers.

"Mr Silvercroft." She informed Hermione, rapping smartly on the door.

A small, wizened man answered and ushered them in solemnly. Hermione wondered briefly if it was a requirement that all wand makers should be old and grey. He gazed at her for a long time, measuring her limbs with his practised eyes. Eventually, he held out his hand and Hermione reluctantly placed Bellatrix Lestrange's wand in his open palm.

"Walnut...12 ¾ inches…" he muttered, holding it against his cheek. "Dragon heartstring…unyielding."

Abruptly, he removed the wand from its position near his face and stared at it strangely. Then, without any warning, he snapped it brutally in half. Hermione gasped and reached out uselessly to stop him.

"What are you doing?!" Eleanor demanded furiously, grabbing the broken pieces. "That belonged to Hermione's grandmother! You had no right!" She was uncharacteristically seething with blatant rage and Hermione felt her heart swell in gratitude.

The old wand maker was shaking his head sadly. "My lady, it pains me greatly to destroy a wand. But that, that wand had been forced to perform terrible acts. It was in mercy for it that I acted. Besides…" he shot a look at Hermione. "It felt no connection to this young lady. I have some that stir with her presence though – wait!"

He disappeared, reappearing momentarily with a basket filled to the brim with wands. He dug his hands in and pulled out a long, light one.

"Ash, unicorn hair – springy. Here."

Hermione gave it the obligatory wave and it let out an array of rainbow sparks which made Eleanor sign with satisfaction.

"No, no, that won't do…too flimsy. Try this one. Pear and Veela hair."

Hermione grimaced but flourished it and produced fragrant rose petals that made her sneeze.

The wand maker cackled heartily. "No, no! That won't do!"

"Haven't you got a vine one – with dragon heartstring?" Hermione pleaded but he shook his head.

"I do not use vine, my lady. I know the druids have attempted it. Please, try this one. It is usually thrice to charm."

He held out a wand and Hermione took it doubtfully. Instantly, she experienced the warm flush spreading through her body and tingling in her toes.

Mr Silvercroft smiled and Eleanor clapped delightedly.

"Yes, I thought so! Willow and Phoenix feather; 10 inches precisely; supple." He smiled and then added in a daze "Those who have furthest to travel will go fastest with willow."

Hermione looked at him with eyes like a house elf but dutifully paid him (with galleons borrowed from her friends since she had no bank account in the 10th centaury). Just as they were leaving, she paused and spoke to the old man.

"Mr Silvercroft, you must have travelled a great deal with your work."

The frail man huffed his chest in pride "Why yes, of course."

"Have you ever, err- come across time travel?"

The man shook his head, looking as disappointed as Hermione felt.

"No my dear, I fear it is an impossible feat."

They bid him farewell and headed back to the market, Hermione missing the frown on Eleanor's face. After purchasing a few essential items and deliberating for what felt like hours with Arabella over which circlet set off her eyes_ more_, they trudged wearily back to the castle for a dinner of hot Pumpkin stew.

_**Please don't forget to review! I love reading them so much and they definitely encourage me to update more quickly *nudge, nudge, hint, hint*.**_


	9. Chapter 9: Failing

_**Thank you so much to my awesome reviewers, especially those of you who review regularly :). I probably would give up on this if it wasn't for you guys! I'm not giving away my ending, you'll have to wait and see if Hermione ends up with Godric or Ron…but I can promise lots of romance before we get to that point! Happy reading, and please do review. 3**_

"Up!" Hermione tried again, shivering in spite of her cloak. It was a bitter morning, and frost clung to the grass of the Quidditch pitch. She was exhausted, having spent most of the night hunting for ever elusive mentions of time travel in the copious tomes in the library.

"UP!" She gritted her teeth in frustration. She had been unendingly thankful when flying lessons had stopped in her 3rd year at Hogwarts and had avoided brooms like bubotuber pus ever since. It wasn't just the dizzy heights and frigid rush of air that she hated. There was just no need for her to fly; she was perfectly capable of apparating thank you very much. Quidditch was a fairly pointless game, which she had tolerated for Harry, Ron and Ginny. On top of it all though, there was simply no logic to it. Flying relied on instinct and emotion, not book smarts and hard work. _This,_ Hermione thought bitterly, was the biggest frustration of all. It didn't matter how long she studied the theory, she was still hopeless.

"Come on now, Miss Granger." The silky voice caressed her like a spider's cobweb and she shuddered, not just with cold. Salazar Slytherin strode deliberately in circles around her, a smirk on his lips.

"The first Years can do this."

"Well I can't!" She snapped, her teeth chattering. "It's a ridiculous subject, with little value!"

Hermione looked longingly towards the door to the castle entrance. The other students had been dismissed a good 5 minutes ago, and she was missing Household charms.

"10 points from Gryffindor." The founder admonished with a sneer. "And you would do well to remember who you are talking to. Up!" The broom flew effortlessly to his hand and he held it out for Hermione to sit on. She huffed, knowing from experience he would not let her go until he was satisfied, and sat inelegantly on the broom; striving not to brush against him. _Side-saddle, because flying isn't stupid enough already._

The Slytherin let go, leaving Hermione's feet dangling about an inch off the frozen ground, and skirted around so he was facing her. She refused to meet his narrowed, clay coloured eyes and stared determinedly at the ground. Her jaw was set and her hands gripped the broom handle for dear life.

"Gently now, Miss Granger." He chided, easing her hands apart a little. She folded her arms stubbornly and his face hardened.

"Detention. Tomorrow, dusk." He smiled nastily and with obvious pleasure added "here."

By the time Hermione slipped into a seat next to Thea, the spot just above the bridge of her nose was throbbing. Her mood was considerably worsened when Professor Hufflepuff took another 5 points off Gryffindor for her tardiness, although it was clear she was reluctant to do so. Her friend glanced at her worriedly and continued to embroider delicate golden birds on the hemline of her dress robes, her wand tracing the pattern.

Hermione took out her own dress robes and tried to concentrate on thinning a swath of creamy silk to a translucent quality. It was slow, patient work and gave her no respite from her fury.

She skipped lunch and headed resolutely to the library to work on a healing essay on the properties of moonflower petals which she had planned to write tomorrow afternoon. Dotting a full stop a little too vigorously, she knocked the ink vial over the parchment. There was nothing to do but stare at it for a moment. The ink was rapidly being absorbed by the thick fibres of the scroll, and eating hungrily at the words she had spent the last hour scribing. She shook her bushy hair as she came to her senses and quickly cast a blotting spell. Realising it was too late to save it; she screwed her half-written essay up into a furious little ball and hurled it at the wall. If it hadn't have been the library, she would have surely screamed. Head throbbing dizzily, she collected the discarded essay and tossed it in the bin on her way out.

_Will something please go right today._

Tears of tiredness pricked at her eyes, but she refused to let them spill over. Her bag weighed heavily on her shoulder and her hair felt hot on the back of her neck. She grasped her wand for comfort as she entered the Great Hall. Godric Gryffindor glanced up from talking to Thea and Eleanor. The three were huddled in the corner, talking in low voices and Thea was gesturing wildly with her hands. Eleanor sent her a bright smile which Hermione couldn't return. She wondered vaguely what they were discussing as she set her bags to one side. Since she was late, she half expected the professor to take points off her, but he ignored her as he strode to the middle of the room.

"Most of you," he sent a sympathetic glance to Eleanor who flushed, "have mastered the art of non-verbal spells. Well done. Something we have not discussed however is a non-wizard opponent."

Arabella gasped sharply next to Hermione, sending a fresh wave of pain through her head.

"You mean you want us to attack muggles?!"

"No Miss Thornton," he said impatiently "That was not my implication. Who of you can venture what I may be describing?"

"A troll?" Thea suggested. This set the class off into various magical beings – merfolk, pixies, ghosts.

Eventually, Hermione raised her hand tiredly. "A boggart."

"A wise suggestion Miss Granger, but no. No, today we will learn to do battle with Dementors!"

Confused mumblings broke out amongst the class, although Hermione did notice Thomas nodding knowledgably.

"A new, jail is to open soon. Askaban, will be its name. The guardians of this god-forsaken place are to be creatures known as Dementors. Believe me when I say, you do not wish to be close enough to feel their breath on your cheek. Fortunately, there is a simple incantation to repel these foul beasts."

He stopped and met the eyes of every student in the class firmly.

"Dementors feed on fear and unhappiness. They make their feast from your pain and agony." He spoke softly. "The counter spell is simply a forced expression of joy. Pure, undiluted happiness. Thus…Expecto Patronum!"

He rolled the 'um' deep in his throat and flourished his wand purposively. Without hesitation, a silver lion pounced out of his wand tip and prowled the hall, causing a few girls to scream.

He instructed them to get into a space and the seventh years began. Cries of 'EXPECTOOOO PATRONUMMM!' rang out across the hall and wisps of silver hung to a couple of wands. Hermione dragged her usual memory to mind – a peaceful afternoon in the Three Broomsticks with Ron and Harry.

"Expecto Patronum." She muttered half heartedly and was rewarded with a distinct lack of, well, anything. She tried again a few times, trying to ignore the silver spurt that had erupted from Thomas' wand rather quickly. Most students had managed a silver mist by this point, and the lion was dozing under the table. Half an hour later, she felt herself burning as it became obvious that she was the only one who was yet to produce anything. Even Eleanor had achieved a few wisps of silver.

She felt Godric Gryffindor place his hand on her shoulders, a soothing touch but one she shied away from.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Granger." He murmured, and Hermione was sure she saw faint pink spots on his cheeks.

"Are you having difficulty?"

_I can do this spell. I can. I don't fail at everything._ Hermione told herself furiously.

Taking her silence as an affirmative, he looked at her gently. "Tell me, what is your memory?"

"Having a drink with my frie-" she stopped as he began shaking his head.

"No, that's not nearly powerful enough. There must be something else."

Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose as she thought and then lifted her wand.

_Strong, keeper arms held her slender body against his muscular one. Her own arms were wrapped loosely around his neck and her hands tangled in his carroty hair. His lips were clumsy against hers, crushing them desperately with his kiss._

"Expecto patronum." A silver mist squeezed out of her wands tip and dissolved quickly in the air. She frowned in hurt confusion.

"That is good, Miss Granger, keep practising." Then louder, "Class is dismissed! Excellent effort today."

Hermione waved her friends out and lingered until the room had emptied apart from her professor. The young man was wearing his usual red robes and waving the large tables and benched to their rightful places. He looked up, seemingly unsurprised by her presence and spoke before she could.

"Miss Granger, do not worry yourself. It is a difficult spell to master. Why even the greatest of wizards…"

"I can do it." She interrupted. "My patronus is an otter. It just wouldn't work today."

He sighed and moved the last bench into place with a flick.

"Miss Granger-"

"I'm telling the truth! Look! Expecto patronum!" Nothing. "Ex-expecto patronum."

"Hermione." He spoke softly, his voice kind. "Are you unwell?"

"No. I'm fine. Well, that is I have a bit of a headache." She admitted lamely.

His brow furrowed with what Hermione assumed to be concern, although why a professor should be worried about _her_ headache, she couldn't fathom.

"May I?" he stretched out an open palm and when she simply shrugged, placed it on her forehead. His hand felt rough and calloused but refreshingly cool against her aching eyes. He muttered a spell under his breath and the throbbing died down to a dull ache. Hermione sighed with relief.

"Thank you." She made to step away from him, but he caught her cheek in his palm and looked closely into her eyes.

"There is more. Something you are not divulging."

"I'm just tired." She blushed.

"No." He growled. "Hermione – Miss Granger, if something has upset you, I beg of you to let me know. I would have no discomfort come to you in this castle."

She met his eyes curiously, and it was like staring into a bubbling stream. They held intensity, and were constantly fluid with unspoken emotion. He greeted her rich, deep orbs without flinching.

"It's like I said, professor, I'm fine." Even to her ears, the line sounded phony.

He dropped his hand loosely to his side and Hermione, to her embarrassment, found herself longing for him to replace it.

"I implore you to get an early night then." His voice had returned to its humming melodic tone. "After all, the ball is approaching swiftly and it would not do for you to be tired for such an occasion. I am sure your suitor would be terribly disappointed if that were the case."

It was him that strode out of the room, offering her a polite bow before he did so. The young Gryffindor stood like a suit of armour for a moment before sinking to the floor in a heap of black robes and frizzy hair. For the first time since the night at the window, she wept. She cried for her exhaustion; for her frustration; and mostly for the kiss that no longer filled her with joy.


	10. Chapter 10: Flying

_**Thank you for your reviews. I really appreciate them – even ones that aren't very nice to read because it helps me to improve this story. You are all lovely.**_

* * *

When Hermione heard students' voices as they begun to enter the Great Hall for dinner, she quickly slid onto the bench at Gryffindor table. She scrubbed at her face with her rough sleeve. Pupils sat down in dribs and drabs and she was quickly found by Eleanor. The small girl rushed over to her friend and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Hermione, where have you been all this while?" Her eyes brimmed with genuine concern.

"Oh, I just wanted to talk to Professor Gryffindor about my patronus." Hermione mumbled, hoping it was clear that she didn't want to talk about it.

"It was such a _hard_ lesson, was it not? I had barely created a wisp when he dismissed us."

"Well. I couldn't do it at all." She flinched at how bitter her voice sounded and reprimanded herself. _It's not Eleanor's fault._

"Perhaps the memory you were using was not strong enough?" she suggested helpfully.

"It-it should have been. It's the happiest moment of my life. I was with my, well my best friend or one of them at least."

Eleanor nodded thoughtfully. "Well maybe it was not the memory, but your mood."

An irritable laugh burst out Hermione's lips. "Yes, you could well be right."

The other girl looked at her patiently and began dolling chicken casserole and cabbage on her plate. Without asking, she served Hermione a portion about twice the size of her own.

"You need it, have you seen how slender you are?" She defended at Hermione's incredulous look. She waited until Hermione had eaten half of her casserole and then tentatively enquired about her day. Hermione sighed and finished chewing her dumpling.

"We had flying first thing; I got a detention off Professor Slytherin; I spilt ink over my Healing homework and I'm pretty sure Professor Gryffindor thinks I'm a world class idiot – oh and I had a headache." She reeled off, stabbing a piece of cabbage viciously with her fork.

"I think you should add that you murdered a vegetable." Eleanor suggested solemnly, and despite herself, Hermione found herself chuckling, if a little tearfully.

"Truthfully Hermione, it sounds like you have experienced an awful day, but things are not so bad. You still have time to finish your essay, Professor Gryffindor definitely does not think you are a fool and I- well if you like- I could help you with flying. Only if you would like to though." She added hurriedly.

Hermione considered her friend for a long while before she managed to choke back her pride.

"That would be good, Eleanor, thank you." She said stiffly.

Eleanor looked decidedly relived.

"Hermione?"

She looked up at the sound of her name to see a skinny boy towering over her.

"Hello Thomas."

"Professor Ravenclaw requested that I give you this." He held out a folded piece of parchment.

Hermione took it, and briefly scanned the contents. With a groan, she stood up. Thomas' eyes brightened as the casserole on the table was replaced by copious apple pies and took his place next to Eleanor immediately.

"See you in the common room, Eleanor – thanks Thomas."

The pair barely acknowledged her departure, thought Hermione bemusedly. She looked back as she went through the huge doors. Thomas was busy serving Eleanor a generous portion of pie and the petite Gryffindor was talking animatedly about something. Hermione smiled to herself and made a mental note to talk to Thomas about the upcoming ball.

She rapped smartly on Professor Ravenclaw's door and waited impatiently for the woman to answer. Eventually the door swung open and Hermione skipped to one side to allow Professor Hufflepuff to get out. The normally cheerful Household Charms mistress looked worried. She embraced her fellow founder tightly and whispered something in her ear that Hermione couldn't hear before bustling off down the corridor.

"Come in Miss Granger, do sit down."

Hermione gingerly perched in the same chair she had after first meeting the Ravenclaw founder.

"Is everything okay, Professor?" She asked politely.

"I hear you have received a detention from Professor Slytherin?" The woman's eyes, despite being narrowed, still managed to appear piercing.

"Yes."

"For what reason?"

"I suppose I was impertinent." Hermione said darkly.

"That will be the Gryffindor traits within you." The Ravenclaw lady sighed and Hermione noticed the shadows lining her eyes and the sickly pallor to her cheeks for the first time.

Half out of habit, she checked the moon phase – crescent, waxing. _Not a werewolf then,_ she mused.

"I have been meaning to talk to you anyway, Miss Granger. You joined us a bare half moon ago, yet you have had quite an impact on the Professors – us founders especially. Did you know you have received full marks on every essay thus far? Professor Finch tells me your potions are regularly superior to most of the class too."

Hermione struggled to hide her delight, shuffling forwards so far in her chair that she very nearly fell off. _Full marks! _Professor Ravenclaw took a moment to smile in what was obviously intended to be a kind way, but came out looking pained.

"To be sincere, Miss Granger, I am not sure there is much we can still teach you at Hogwarts…I am sure you will agree?"

Hermione flustered, began to talk at a fast pace.

"But you can't! I have no where else to go and no money. You can't make me leave professor, please!" She beseeched desperately. "I'm using the library for my research as well, I need the books."

The Professor held up a pale hand in her well known, infuriating gesture and Hermione ignored her to carry on.

"Please professor, just let me finish the year. I'll, I'll apologise to Professor Slytherin if you want me to. Just please don't make me leave Hogwarts, you can't."

"Hermione!" The lady eventually managed to interrupt. "_Do_ be quiet and listen for a moment. We are not suggesting you leave. Heavens above child, we would not waste an agile mind such as yours. I am merely suggesting that you may like to sit your NEWTs in January, rather than the summer."

Hermione relaxed her vice-like grip on the carved arm of the chair a little, but not the tension in her face.

"But where would I go afterwards?" She asked sceptically. Rowena Ravenclaw's eyes gleamed.

"You would become my assistant. You would be responsible for teaching lower years Transfiguration, although having seen you with some of you fellow students I am sure you would be capable with older students as well. I would also require your aid for my personal studies." She paused. "Having researched time travel well, I was inclined to dismiss time travel as a dream. Your mere presence, Hermione, forces me to reconsider. Of course, if we were to reconcile a way…if it were possible…then I would do my utmost to return you to your time. I know how much it means to you."

She smiled in her slightly awkward way. Hermione's heart felt so light, that it almost filled her mouth. She could scarcely believe it.

"Professor – I would love to do this!" Her eyes shone and were wide with excitement. To be given an opportunity to work closely with Rowena Ravenclaw herself, _and_ find a way back to Ron and Harry (for Hermione was sure that she would) in the process, was more than she could have hoped for.

"My heart is glad!" The professor exclaimed and Hermione was sure she looked pleased. "You will of course be paid. A sum of one and twenty Galleons a season. Your accommodation and food will be provided. On your appointment you will be allocated a bed chamber and a study for your personal use."

Hermione felt like she could fly around the room with happiness.

"And the other founders have agreed to this?" She probed.

"Why yes, of course. They are all pleased by the prospect. As it happens, it was the suggestion of Professor Gryffindor that prompted me to ask you. He thinks most highly of you. I would really have loved to have witnessed you placing a jigging jinx on him." She added, her eyes dancing with merriment. "You will have to oblige me sometime."

Hermione's cheeks flamed at her professor's gentle teasing and mumbled something about needing to finish her Healing essay. Half way to the door, she had a sudden alarming thought.

"Professor!"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"What happens if I fail all my NEWTs?!"

* * *

"So you are to be a professor Hermione, that is most excellent news! You will be a blessing to all those whom you teach."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, but Eleanor's face was warm and genuine.

"Thank you Eleanor." She said nervously. "But I need to pass my NEWTs first."

"Hermione, do not be ridiculous! You will pass with ease."

"You sound like Professor Ravenclaw." Hermione said glumly.

"Indeed. Now stop trying to distract me and call that broomstick to your hand."

The girl's eyes glinted dangerously and Hermione supressed a grumble. _This girl is a regular Oliver Wood._ It was shortly after the late winter dawn, and the friends had snuck out before breakfast to practise Hermione's dubious flying skills. Their breath made the air around then to puff like a steam train and Hermione would have much sooner have been curled up by a fire in the Gryffindor common room. It was only the thought of her detention later that made her rub some feeling back into her hands before placing one over the broom.

"Up?" She pleaded.

"Hermione, no! You do not ask the broom, you command it. Think of it as a summoning charm and you simply must be assertive!"

Hermione considered this for a while. She had begged the broom and shouted at it, had she ever _commanded_ it? It was worth a try, she supposed. Gathering every bossy thread in her being, she stuck her hand obstinately back over the broom and commanded it.

"Up."

The broom flew to her like iron to a magnet and she was so surprised that she fumbled and dropped it. Eleanor clapped delightedly.

"Yes Hermione! Again!"

"Up."

This time, to Hermione's pride, she managed to retain her grasp on the polished wood. Eleanor grinned and called her own broom to her, before sliding on to it.

"The trick is to tuck your ankle round the end, it acts as an anchor." She modelled this beautifully, her broom hovering obediently for her. Hermione took a few attempts but eventually managed to imitate Eleanor's position, if somewhat less elegantly. Eleanor spent an hour coaching Hermione until she felt reasonably secure mounting and dismounting a broom. Flying was still a problem, but she was at least able to get on and off. Whilst Hermione practised her dismount, Eleanor took the opportunity to soar around the empty Quidditch pitch. Hermione stopped to watch her in amazement. The girl wove in and out of the hoops deftly and instinctively leaned to counter the wind. Ron was definitely stronger, and Harry was probably slightly faster, but Hermione was sure both would envy Eleanor's agility.

Hermione supressed a twinge of jealousy as the girl gracefully landed and dismounted in one fluid motion.

"Eleanor – that was incredible! I had no idea you could fly _that_ well."

The girl laughed erratically, her cheeks flushed from the wind.

"I grew up on a farm with only a brother and an owl for company, Hermione. What were you expecting?"

"Does Thomas know?" Hermione prompted sneakily.

Eleanor's cheeks seemed to glow even brighter and Hermione laughed. They began heading towards the castle, intending to get some breakfast before their first class. Eleanor seemed to be struggling with herself. She kept opening her mouth and then shutting it abruptly. Hermione waited patiently.

"He asked me." Eleanor eventually blurted out. "Thomas, to the ball."

"I should hope so too!"

* * *

_**Please review; let me know what you think of Hermione becoming a teacher. This was a bit of a strange chapter but I felt like Hermione needed to have a good day for once. The next chapter will be the ball scene! I'm very excited about it. I've basically had it in my head from Chapter 2. :D**_


	11. Chapter 11: Dancing

Amongst essays, Slytherin's detention and revising for NEWTs, Hermione squeezed every moment possible into her search for a way to travel in time. Her search of Hogwarts library had proved fruitless, which was an endless source of frustration as she could count the times the library had failed her on one hand. She kept coming back to the slim volume penned by the Ravenclaw Professor, and was impatient to begin studying with her so that she could interrogate the woman about her vagueness: _One must first have a link to the future or past, a metaphorical anchor if you will. One must call to the different time, but the time must also answer. What on Earth does she mean? _

Hermione was most unimpressed to learn that lessons continued right up to the day before Christmas Eve and resumed on what was known as Boxing Day in her time. She had been relying on at least a week when she could focus solely on her time travel research and was cross that this had been reduced to a mere two days. Her mood was not helped by Arabella informing her that the 'winter-ball-was-very-much-compulsory-and-she-had- better-find-a-good-looking-escort-because- could-not- let-the-Gryffindor-ladies-down-and-also-do-somethi ng-with-the-bird-nest.'

"Honestly." Hermione fumed to Eleanor after Arabella had stalked off. "You'd think she took my hair as a personal insult!"

"I think she does." Her friend said, absentmindedly adding liberal amounts of honey to her porridge. "So who will you accept as your escort Hermione? I know that some must have asked you."

"Actually," Hermione said, carefully adopting a casual tone. "I was thinking about going alone."

Eleanor paused in horror, a spoonful of her breakfast hovering mid-way to her mouth comically.

"Hermione, you cannot! It is unseemly. Pray, why would you do such a thing?"

"I just, I don't want to go with anyone here at Hogwarts I suppose."

Eleanor placed her spoon back in the bowl and looked thoughtful.

"You have a sweetheart, back in Devonshire, am I correct to assume?"

Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair but mumbled something that Eleanor took as an affirmative.

"Tell me about him."

"He's –impossibly frustrating," Hermione laughed breathlessly. "He's jealous and he rarely says the right thing. He gets really insecure and is a bit thick when it comes to emotions."

Eleanor raised her dark eyebrows.

"Well, he's also very loyal, and he's funny… he's good for me, I suppose." She added uncertainly.

"And you are in love, betrothed?"

She took Hermione's silence as agreement and sighed.

"Hermione, look, I'm sure he would understand. He would not wish you to be disgraced by attending the ball unaccompanied. Why do you not write to him and inform him? Then he will not feel the need for envy."

Hermione was rather inclined to disagree, but reluctantly accepted the next boy that asked her (A seventh year Ravenclaw who looked positively delighted). That night, she did what Eleanor suggested. She closed the heavy drapes around her bed and sat, chewing on her quill. Eventually, she put it to parchment and began to write in her measured, neat handwriting.

_Ron_

_I looked up the spell to stop fiendfyre – it's 'flamada terminado', but I suppose that's not much good to you now. I miss you. I miss you. I think if it's possible, I miss you more than on that stupid night you left us in the tent. You can be a total prat, but I miss you anyway. I keep thinking of our kiss. Would you have kissed me if I hadn't have kissed you? Probably not. Ron you should know, I love you, but I think I'm also _in_ love with you. Who am I kidding? I've known I am in love with you for the past two years – it's you who was slow on the uptake! I wish you were here to tease me about spending too much time in the library and persuade me to check your essays. I just wish you were here. _

_The founder's era is fascinating. I'm going to be working with Rowena Ravenclaw herself and its strange really because that was always a fantasy of mine. Tomorrow is the winter ball. I'm going with some Ravenclaw guy. Don't get mad. It's doesn't mean anything; I just have to go with someone. I'd much rather be going with you, but knowing you, you probably would forget to ask me. I promise you nothing will happen in any shape or form with him. If he tries it, I'll borrow Ginny's bat bogey hex. _

_Ron, listen. I'm not there to help you and it hurts like I can't even describe. Please don't die. I need you. Just hold on a bit longer. I wish there was some way you could get to me like you did before._

_Hold on Ron, I __will__ find a way back to you. Give my love to Harry._

_Hermione_

Hermione scanned the words quickly. It wasn't quite as eloquent as her letters usually were, but since nobody was ever going to read it, she supposed it didn't particularly matter.

* * *

Christmas Eve.

Arabella had been prancing around the common room since an unreasonable hour in the morning declaring that to be the day, so Hermione supposed it was probably true. Two hours after their excited friend had disappeared, Hermione and Eleanor reluctantly headed to their dormitory to get ready for the winter ball.

Rather ingeniously, Hermione used a simple heating spell on her wand to create something similar to a muggle curling iron and set about taming her frizz into shiny curls. She forwent the pastes and lotions that Arabella attempted to thrust upon her, much to the girl's disgust. After wrestling with her hand-made gown for a few moments, Hermione finally got it on and crept over to the mirror to have a look.

A fairly pretty girl with wide brown eyes and elegantly curled hair stared back at her. She wore long robes of satin in a soft gold which rippled effortlessly over her body. A translucent cream overcoat floated loosely over the simply cut dress and gathered just under the bust into a girdle embroidered with hundreds of tiny, stars that had been enchanted to twinkle softly. In accordance with the fashion of the time, the sleeves of the overcoat tapered to the elbow and then flared gracefully. She wore no jewellery, not wishing to borrow any more money off her friend than she needed to.

"I'll do." Hermione muttered, already wishing she hadn't agreed to go.

"You will more than _do_ Hermione." Eleanor came up to join her at the mirror shyly, standing on tip toe to peer at her reflection.

Hermione smiled proudly at her friend. The vibrant green satin was a bold move for her and had paid off beautifully. The colour brought out the jade tones in her eyes and the classic cut highlighted, rather than swamped, her pixie-like form.

"Eleanor you look so beautiful! No man will be able to take his eyes take his eyes off you all evening."

Eleanor blushed and smiled happily.

"Just one will do." She said quietly.

Arabella, in billowing robes of crimson velvet swept forward to pout at her reflection in the mirror, jostling the other girls out of her way. Her dark hair hung straight down her back in a long, glossy curtain that was crowned with the gold circlet she had purchased in Hogsmede.

"Do I look good?" She asked, uncertainly, straightening her ruby-adorned girdle with hands that shook with excitement.

"Arabella, you are stunning." Hermione said firmly. Arabella's face relaxed and she reached forward to ping one of Hermione's curls.

"I see you sorted out the nest!"

Hermione felt inclined to take that as a compliment.

* * *

_If the Yule Ball was looking for competition, this is it._ Hermione thought in wonder as she walked down the main staircase. Intricately carved ice sculptures had been enchanted to move around the room. Frosty eagles soared overhead and ice badgers shuffled along the floor. Long, frozen serpents slithered around the banisters, looking rather like overgrown icicles, whilst icy lions sat proudly guarding every door. Tiny, delicate snow flakes drifted gently around the room; vanishing as they touched the floor. Large swaths of white satin adorned the walls and candles with aquamarine flames floated here and there to give the room a subtle winter glow.

Thomas stood at the foot of the stairs, his eyes locked longingly on Eleanor. He smiled bashfully as she reached him and bowed before offering his arm. Arabella was similarly claimed by a handsome Slytherin, who seemed unable to drag his jaw off the floor on seeing her. The Ravenclaw who had asked Hermione, bounded up like a puppy when he spotted her and gave a rather over-zealous bow.

"You look…like the queen of the galaxy. Endless fortune is mine." He said earnestly and Hermione coughed to hide her amusement. _Honestly._

"Thank you…err…"

"Gilbert." He supplied helpfully.

"Right. Thank you, Gilbert. Shall we err, go in then?"

She gestured towards the Great Hall and he abruptly gave her his arm to lead her in. A rather large, ornamental harp plucked its own stings to provide background music for the couples as they mingled and greeted each other. Hermione spotted Thea with her Hufflepuff sweetheart and pulled Gilbert over so she could chat to them. The head girl was looking even prettier than usual in her blue dress robes. She greeted them warmly but kept glancing towards the main doors.

"I am required to begin the dancing with the founders." She explained when Hermione asked her if she was looking for someone. "They will be here any moment – ah!"

The room had begun to fall quiet, save for hushed whispers, as the students parted to create a path to the dance floor for the founders who had appeared at the large doors. All of them wore robes in their house's colour and each was flanked by an ice sculpture. Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw came first – and Hermione couldn't help but notice that the woman was looking just as tired as before. Godric Gryffindor accompanied Helga Hufflepuff and held her arm with the same adoration that the Weasley children reserved for their mother.

They swept on to the floor and were quickly joined by Thea, and the head boy who Hermione didn't know. With a flick of her wand, Rowena replaced the harp with a string quartet and the couples began to dance. All three couples danced with practised grace, but Salazar and Rowena seemed to glide without touching the ground. Once the dance had come to an end, round tables appeared around the room and couples glided naturally to them.

Almost instantly, bowls of spiced parsnip soup appeared and Hermione dug in enthusiastically, mostly to avoid Gilbert's endless questions about where she lived and where she had been educated before Hogwarts.

"What would you like to do after Hogwarts?" She eventually asked, in the hopes of distracting him.

"Oh, well I intend to further my understanding of potions. I do not know after that. Do you like potions Hermione?"

"Yes I suppose so." Hermione said briefly. "What about you Thomas?"

"It is my intention to become a healer." The Ravenclaw smiled in appreciation as generous portions of hog roast appeared on their plates.

"That's great Thomas! I think you'd make an amazing healer." Thomas smiled modestly.

"What about you, Hermione? From what we have seen of you, I doubt you would consent to simply care for your husband and mother a dozen children."

"I don't really know. I mean, I've always wondered about teaching I suppose. Or some sort of research."

They continued to chat until the last scarping of pudding had been eaten and the plates disappeared. The founders levitated the tables and chairs to the sides of the Great Hall to create a huge dance floor and the enchanted orchestra struck up a new song. Couples filed dutifully onto the floor and when Gilbert requested that they dance, Hermione took pity on him.

As they rotated gracefully around the room, she was pleasantly surprised to find that her partner was actually a pretty good dancer and led her easily on the floor. In the corner of her eye, she spotted a blur of green and realised with a smile that Thomas had asked Eleanor to dance. Once the music had come to an end, Hermione excused herself and left Gilbert to ask a pretty fifth year in her stead. She collapsed into a chair and enjoyed watching the couples. Her eyes lingered on Salazar and Rowena who had accompanied each other for every dance thus far. Both looked happy in their partner's arms and Rowena was positively beaming.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione noticed the melodic tenor voice and smiled at Godric Gryffindor.

"Professor." She greeted him, and he sat on a chair next to her. The man followed her gaze to his friends and a curious smile quirked the corner of his lips.

"They look well together, do they not?"

"Yes, they really do."

They watched the elegant couple for a few more moments before the man turned his attention to Hermione once more.

"Hermione, I have to offer sincere congratulations on your appointment as Rowena's assistant."

"Oh well," Hermione stammered. "I need to pass my NEWTS first, and get an O in Transfiguration."

He looked at her with eyes that danced like the stars on her girdle. "Now Hermione, we both know that will not be a problem."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "You all sound the same!"

"Indeed." He paused to look at her intently and then stood, holding out his hand. "Would you honour me with a dance?"

She thought furiously of a way to refuse without causing offence, but her mind was blank so she took his hand. _You're tired. You have blisters. You don't like the song. Any of those Hermione!_ He drew her to the middle of the floor and placed his hand on the curve of her back. She rested her own on his firm arm, the scarlet linen warm beneath her finger tips. They began to move to the lilting melody and Hermione found herself pressed close to the man's chest as they glided around the room in a medley of scarlet and gold.

"Have you had a nice day?" Hermione asked shortly, wanting to break the strange silence that reined between them.

"It was fair." He looked a little startled to hear her voice. "Although I did have to help Salazar purchase a gift."

Hermione rolled her eyes and belatedly realised her was looking at her.

"You may well laugh, Hermione. It was not you that had to adorn yourself with seventeen different scents! My nose still tickles."

At this, Hermione did laugh – thinking of the proud founder wearing women's perfume, and seventeen types at that. They came to a halt as the music faded off and Hermione spotted Gilbert wading determinedly towards her.

"Come on!" She hissed and disappeared abruptly into the crowd. Looking decidedly amused by her antics, Godric Gryffindor obediently followed her out to the grounds.

"You are a wonder, Hermione." He laughed. "For sure, I am unable to comprehend you."

Hermione sighed and perched gingerly on a stone bench. The moon was swollen in the star-strewn sky and cast plenty of light for them to see.

"Sorry – he just keeps asking me where I come from and – questions I can't answer truthfully."

Godric nodded thoughtfully. "It must be difficult for you, with your peers remaining oblivious to who you truly are."

She shrugged. "I suppose so."

"So," he abruptly switched topics. "Tell me Hermione, in your time, did you make many of your educator's tap dance?"

She snorted loudly. "No, no, that was just for you."

"I feel honoured."

"You should."

"Well I do."

"Good."

"Good."

"_Good."_

Both of them laughed as they caught each other's eyes and Godric suddenly reached forward to cup her cheek as he has a few days before.

"Are you happy here at Hogwarts?" he asked gruffly.

Hermione made to move away, but he placed his other hand on her shoulder to root her in place. She thought for a while.

"I suppose I am, but I still want to go home. My friends-"

"Yes, your friends need you."

"That's right."

"Do you think," he ventured carefully, "that you would ever be content to stay? Is there anything to capture your heart here?"

She shuffled her feet awkwardly. "I don't think so."

His face was very close to hers now; she could smell cinnamon from the pudding on his breath. His hand stroked a stray curl behind her ear and he barely whispered his next words.

"We shall have to change that."

His lips brushed hers with a sweet kiss that lingered and made Hermione's lips tingle. For a moment, she closed her eyes and unthinkingly reached up her hands to entwine them in his rugged red hair. Encouraged, he deepened the kiss and pulled her face up to meet his hungrily.

_Ron._

All of a sudden, her eyes flew open and she untangled her hands from his hair, breaking away. Then, she punched him square on the jaw.


	12. Chapter 12: Haunted

**Disclaimer: I always forget to say this, but I think it's pretty obvious. I do not own Harry Potter or any of J K Rowling's wonderful characters.**

**A/N: Wow guys, that last chapter got a bit of a bashing from some people –ouch! That hurt a bit. Thank you to all of you who reviewed, but please don't assume from the stories that I like that this one will end up in a certain way. A big thank you especially to Alicia, Nikita and Lily, since I can't PM you as guests. I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you for reading** .

* * *

Hermione stared in shock at her hand, which had seemed to move of its own accord. Her eyes locked onto those of the man she had just punched. He was standing deadly still, not having staggered from the impact. His face looked confused, and his eyes hurt. Staggering a little, Hermione took a few steps backwards before gathering up her robes and walking quickly towards the doors, conscious of several eyes on her. As she reached them, she broke into a run. _Oh no, I punched a professor. Oh my – I kissed a professor. I'm in so much trouble. I'll probably be expelled for this._

"Hermione!"

She heard the last voice she wanted to at that moment and ignored it. As she reached Gryffindor tower, she practically screamed the password at Sir Cadogan.

"My my, young lady. Why the haste?" On her murderous expression, he quailed and swung forward to admit her. She rushed in and up the stairs to her dormitory, trying not to trip over her robes. As she slammed the door, she heard the portrait close again and quick footsteps heading her way.

"Go away!" She cried shrilly.

"Hermione, you cannot – please accept my apologies. I did not mean to- argh!"

There was a series of bumps followed by a large thud and Hermione realised that the founder must have fallen prey to his own enchantment on the staircase.

He muttered several curses loudly before speaking again.

"Hermi- Miss Granger, I am so sorry. I should not have assumed you returned my feelings, however vivid they are to me. I beg your forgiveness."

He paused for a long time, obviously hoping that she would reply. His parting words were so quiet, Hermione wasn't sure if she had imagined them or not.

"Joyous Crīstesmæsse, Hermione."

* * *

"_Hermione! Hermione! No! We have to go back –"_

"_Ron no, it's too late. We can't – Hermione wouldn't want us to-"_

"_Don't you dare tell me what Hermione would want you stupid git! We abandoned her! HERMIONE!"_

_Harry dropped the broom he had just dismounted to throw his arms around his friend. The door to the room of requirement slammed shut on the flames that still chased them. Ron pulled himself free and staggered towards the door, pushing Malfoy out of his way. _

_"I need to get Hermione, I need to get Hermione, I need to get Hermione." He reeled off quickly._

"_Ron, NO!"_

_He wrenched the door open to find billowing clouds of ash, where seconds ago there had been fire. Ron charged through the smoke and bits of embers got caught in his bright hair._

"_Hermione! 'Mione!" He seemed unable to stop calling her name, in the hopes that she would answer. Despite his reluctance, Harry had chased after his best friend and joined him in shouting her name. The boys battled through the charred remains of the room that had served them for faithfully for the past three years, seeking their best friend desperately._

_Ron collapsed in a heap in the middle of a scattering of glass that had somehow survived the flames and began pounding the floor with his fists. Splinters of glass bounced lightly on the floor from the impact. A guttural wail escaped him and his punches got more and more violent. _

"'_Mione, 'Mione." The noise was halfway between a sob and a moan._

_Harry stared helplessly around the room for a long time. He felt like following Ron's example but eventually grabbed his friend by the shoulders._

"_Ron, we have – we have to finish it. For Hermione."_

_Ron stared at him with an agonised haunted look on his face._

"_I can't."_

"_We have to!"_

_Ron laughed in a painful, choked sort of way. "Do you honestly think we can do this without Hermione Granger?"_

* * *

Hermione bolted upright in her bed. The screams echoed in her head and her throat felt sore from crying. For a moment, she had been transported back to Malfoy Manor. Hearing Ron screaming her name had been worse than any curse Bellatrix had cast on her. It wasn't the first time she had been tortured with nightmares of the memory – but something had been different this time. As she grasped at the dream, it slipped further away from her. She realised that the room hadn't been her torture chamber, but the one she had vanished from four weeks ago. _Not a memory then._

"Hermione – are you unwell?"

She realised that she was breathing hard and fast and that Eleanor had a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her friend stroked her hair soothingly.

"I- I'm fine. I had a nightmare."

"Then please can we go back to sleep?" Arabella called irritably from her bed.

"Don't be so unkind, Arabella." Eleanor chastised.

"No – she's right. I'm fine Eleanor really." Hermione insisted.

"Did you dream about last night Hermione?"

Suddenly, Arabella seemed to decide that she wasn't that tired after all, and hauled her blankets to sit on the end of Hermione's bed.

"Yes?" She said defensively at Eleanor's glare. "I am also concerned for Hermione."

Eleanor rolled her eyes.

Hermione shivered and pulled her blankets up to her chin. She could see that snow was falling heavily outside the window. The sky was lightening a little, heralding the late winter dawn.

"No, I dreamt about my friends. I had to leave them to come here."

"You miss them?" Eleanor asked simply, and this time it was Arabella that rolled her eyes.

"Of course she does – but why do you not simply go and visit, or ask them to come here?"

Hermione chuckled bitterly "I wish it was that easy."

"Listen Hermione." For the first time since they had met, Arabella's eyebrows were knotted in concern rather than criticism or disdain. "For what I have witnessed of the world, things are only as complicated as you give them permission to be. You want to see your friends. Presumably…" she paused dramatically. "Well, we can only hope that they want to see you too. That is all there is to this situation. There is certainly no need to have nightmares about it. Now…" Her eyes took on a gleam. "Tell us how Professor Gryffindor came to be chasing you through the castle. _That_, is a much more fascinating matter."

"Arabella!" Eleanor exclaimed. "Must you be so direct?"

"Some of us have plans today." The dark haired girl shuffled haughtily in her blanket.

Hermione sighed. With the dream, she had forgotten for a few precious minutes that she had kissed her Professor and then punched him for the pleasure.

"I hear he even tried to follow you to the dormitory _– imagine_!"

"He did."

Both girls gasped at this.

"So he really did end up – um, once the stairs had…"

"Yes."

Arabella burst into giggles and Eleanor bit her lip to try and hide her smile.

"It's not funny!"

"Sorry Hermione – just the thought of Professor Gryffindor sliding down the stairs because of his own enchantment." Eleanor put her hand over her mouth and coughed loudly – though Hermione was sure there were some giggles mixed in.

"I cannot believe you struck him with your fist too! Like a common tavern brawler!" Arabella added, and Eleanor quietened at this.

"Yes Hermione, what did he say to upset you? One moment, you were dancing, and the next he was chasing you."

"He, well he kissed me." Hermione felt her face grow hot, despite the early morning chill.

Arabella gaped and Eleanor's eyes widened in understanding.

"I should never have agreed to dance with him. It was a mistake."

"Hermione, do not be a fool!" Arabella said, still looking like she couldn't quite believe that the young, handsome professor had chosen to kiss Hermione. "You are incredibly blessed to have captured his heart. If it were me, well I would-"

"But it's not you Arabella!" Hermione's voice rose with a hysterical edge to it and Eleanor intervened quickly.

"Arabella just means that Professor Gryffindor is a fine man, Hermione. I know that you are already betrothed." She added hurriedly as Hermione looked furious. "Perhaps he simply did not know."

"I'm not betrothed." Hermione admitted sullenly. "I'm sorry Eleanor, I misled you."

If the small girl was offended, she did a very good job of hiding it. Arabella was looking at Hermione as if in a whole new light.

"Who would have guessed you would have so many secrets?" She muttered, and then spoke loudly in her usual tone. "Shall we open our gifts? You had better have gotten me something good to apologise for waking me up so early."

Eleanor laughed. "Joyous Crīstesmæsse to you too."

* * *

The common room had emptied, Hermione having promised to meet the other girls for breakfast shortly. The floor around the chair she was curled up in was strewn with ribbon and brown paper. Eleanor and Arabella, of course had received several gifts by owl that morning. Hermione was relieved that her own gifts to them had been well received. She had given them each an enchanted girdle that she had made in Household Charms alongside her dress robes. Arabella's had a flamboyant phoenix feather design whilst Eleanor's was embroidered with moons that phased in tune with the real one. In return, she had received several new quills from Eleanor and, to her amusement, a basket of hair lotions from Arabella.

The third gift had been unexpected and she turned it over in her hands warily. The rose had been transfigured so that the petals were a bright gold and the stem was cream. It had no thorns. The small note that came with it had been simple:

_Joyous __Crīstesmæsse and sincere apologies. Please forgive me._

Arabella's words kept coming back into her thoughts, as well as those of Professor Ravenclaw's. Perhaps it wasn't as complicated as it seemed after all.


	13. Chapter 13: Tested

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. Parts of this story are directly quoted from Deathly Hallows.**

**A/N: Thank you to my very loyal reviewers – I think you're lovely! Also, I forgot to say in the last chapter but the dream sequence with Ron and Harry was the idea of the wonderful negativethursday, so a huge thank you to her. I hope you enjoy this chapter, please keep reviewing! **

**Edit: Thank you to Muse and negative thursday for pointing out a few mistakes! This chapter has now been edited :). **

If anything, it seemed to get colder at Hogwarts. Snow turned to grey slush underfoot, before being quickly covered by a fresh white quilt later in the day. The sky stayed a steady and unyielding grey-violet. Hermione found herself becoming well practised in drying spells since the bottom of her robes and cloak seemed permanently sodden. Daylight hours were short, and she spent most evenings huddled next to one of her bluebell flames in the library.

One particularly chilly evening, she had donned two cloaks and was curled up in her usual hidden nook. Pages and pages of carefully penned notes surrounded her, as well as several books she had pulled from the shelves. It was the night before her N.E. and she was determined to cram in as much work as possible that evening. In a way, she was glad she only had eight subjects to revise for. Feverishly, she studied her exam timetable yet again.

"Monday morning: Household Charms, practical and theory then flying." She winced a little at that one. Despite Eleanor's patient coaching, she doubted she would escape with anything more than a 'Dreadful'.

"Monday afternoon: Healing theory and practical, followed by Ancient Runes; then Astronomy in the evening."

She rested her head in her hands. No wonder they were called 'Nastily Exhausting'.

"Tuesday: Transfiguration, potions, and duelling." She mumbled to herself. "Well at least I've studied those before, sort of."

Sighing, she sat up straight and pinched her arm, trying to wake herself up a bit. She wished fervently that she hadn't agreed to take her exams six months in advance. She felt no where near ready. _ I can always retake them in the summer. _She imagined Rowena Ravenclaw telling her in a gentle voice that she had received eight 'D's and shook her head briskly. _Not an option, Hermione._ She pulled some notes towards her that she had borrowed off Thomas and continued to read about wine fermentation.

* * *

After twitching her nose hopefully for a few moments, Hermione gave up and rubbed it sleepily to try to warm it up. It felt like an icicle about to fall off her face. Opening her eyes, she realised why she was so cold. She had fallen asleep in the library, with an Ancient Runes dictionary as her pillow. Blearily, she tugged her cloaks tighter around her and peered out of the window. It was only just dawn, but with Winter hours that meant that she was due to begin her first exam fairly soon. She frantically shoved most of the pieces of parchment into her bag and grabbed a couple of pages to read on the way. Not wanting to get distracted in her exams by hunger pains, she also stopped by the Great Hall and snagged a couple of sweet rolls. Thomas' eyes widened at her multiple cloaks and dishevelled hair but wished her good luck. She waved vaguely in his direction before walking away at top speed.

She got to the classroom on the second floor laid aside specifically for her for two days and was met by Professor Hufflepuff and a stern looking woman in her forties. She swallowed her last bite of food and smiled tentatively.

"Hermione dear, just in time. This is Professor Snow. She will be conducting your exams for the most part this week."

The Professor nodded to Hermione and shepherded her into the room and to a desk. A pile of fresh parchment and a couple of new quills awaited her. She slid into her seat nervously.

Professor Hufflepuff smiled and waved cheerfully before closing the door on her way out. Professor Snow instructed her carefully that she would be writing an essay. It was to be on the process of accelerating fermentation by magic, including how to rectify any problems such as unsatisfactory taste. Hermione struggled not to grin at this; she could clearly picture Thomas' notes in her mind. She wrote solidly for nearly an hour and was in the process of reading it though when the Professor told her time was up. Next, Hermione performed several charms as requested, including making water pour out of her wand and lowering the temperature of a sloe berry until it was covered in a wafer-thin layer of ice. The sour-faced professor gave no indication of how well Hermione had done when it was over, but merely told her that she was required to be on the Quidditch pitch within a quarter of a glass for her flying examination.

Hermione had little option but to hurry straight there, and no time to deliberate how well she had done in Household Charms. She was greeted rather absent-mindedly by Professor Slytherin, who seemed distracted. Certainly, he paid her little attention as she selected her broom from the ones on the ground. _The thicker the handle, the sturdier the flight._ She recalled Eleanor citing, and quickly chose the one with the widest handle. Salazar seemed to pay a bit more attention to her once he was joined by Professor Snow. Hermione strode boldly into the middle of the Quidditch pitch and placed it on the ground. She had fully intended to fail the (in her opinion, rather unnecessary) N.E.W.T gracefully, but on witnessing the slow smirk that spread across his face, she felt a searing determination to do otherwise.

"Call your broom to your hand and fly thrice around the pitch. Then perform an abrupt halt, followed by a steady descent and dismount. Your score will be determined by your ease of turn and your speed."

"Up." The broom flew obediently to her hand and she fought hard to keep the smug expression off her face. Salazar looked startled and nodded for her to continue. Gritting her teeth to stop them chattering from the bitter easterly wind, Hermione perched on the broom and kicked off. _He didn't specify how high._ She paused mid-air, her feet dangling about half a yard above the frozen earth and started to accelerate. Without her stomach twisting from the dizzy heights one normally flew at, she was able to concentrate without worrying about her impending doom. She was slow, and her dismount would have made her Quidditch-loving friends cringe – but she didn't fall off.

"Be back in the exam room in one glass, Miss Granger." His tone was clipped, and Hermione hoped that meant she had at least scraped a 'Poor'.

Her exams and Healing practical passed without major incident – although she was positive that she had mucked up the translation of at least 2 runes. However, by the time she handed in her last translation, she was so utterly exhausted that she felt very tempted to skip dinner and fit in a nap before Astronomy. Instead, she pulled out a plot of various constellations and begged Eleanor to test her on their names over the roast pheasant.

When she finally fell into bed that night, Hermione reached for her notes and began to read about human transfiguration. She hadn't reached the end of the first page, before she slipped into a wearied slumber.

* * *

The next morning was the one Hermione had been most concerned about, but it seemed to pass very quickly. Once again, Hermione was just reading through her essays when her papers were collected in by Professor Snow. To her surprise, she found the practical exam rather straightforward. Given her experience in changing the appearance of Ron on multiple occasions to conceal his identity, doing the same to herself was considerably easier. By the end, she looked around thirty years old and had silky golden plaits that hung to her waist. Her left eyebrow was blue and her eyes were a strange shade of purple. She had also taken the liberty of placing a rather large wart on the tip of her nose. Professor Snow stared at her for a long moment and Hermione was sure a smile twitched at her lips.

Hermione's essay on Polyjuice Potion for potions was, in her opinion, perfect. _Mind you_, she thought wryly. It wasn't as if she hadn't had much practise at making it. She was also able to make a strong hiccoughing potion, which had her examiner hiccuping for at least 10 minutes after one mouthful. The antidote she had concocted to an unknown poison was more of a concern, and she worried endlessly about whether she had missed an ingredient.

Finally only one exam remained, and Hermione had been dreading it. She walked into the room to find Professor Snow, along with the man she had been carefully avoiding for the past week.

"Miss Granger, please draw your wand."

He spoke quietly, and Hermione was sure he wanted to say much more, but quailed under the careful supervision of Snow. Wordlessly, she took out her wand and raised it in a defensive duelling position. She forced herself to look up, at his face and regretted her choice instantly. He was almost unrecognisable as the proud man she had met the day after her arrival. He looked tired, and older than his years as he countered her position.

Professor Snow peered at the two of them and smiled properly for the first time.

"No tap dancing please." She warned Hermione. "Rowena told me all about that little incident."

She chuckled and Hermione tried hard to join in, for appearances sake, but her laugh sounded forced and hollow. Godric Gryffindor made no attempt at niceties and stood in stony silence instead.

"Well. Shall we continue? Miss Granger, please stun your opponent. Fear not, I am sure Professor Gryffindor will deflect it, so no harm will come to him."

"Stupefy!"

He deflected her spell effortlessly without words and nodded curtly to Professor Snow.

"Well done Miss Granger, and non-verbally now please."

This went on with various spells which Hermione had been well practised in from her year on the run. Her examiner seemed particularly impressed with her defensive ward casting.

"Yes, Miss Granger. Truly magnificent."

Her opponent crossed the room to a large cabinet and suddenly Hermione knew what was coming. Something on her face must have fallen because Professor Snow felt compelled to reassure her.

"Worry not, Miss Granger. Neither of us will judge you on what happens in the next few moments."

Godric was frowning, but tapped the door of the cabinet smartly with his wand. Hermione waited for Professor McGonagall – or even Ravenclaw to step out and begin telling her that she had failed all of her N.E. and was to be expelled in disgrace. No amount of note reading could have prepared her for who actually climbed out. One, and then two carroty heads appeared and Hermione's first irrational thought was why on earth would she be scared of Fred and George. Her heart sank as they looked up; before her stood Ron and Godric. Both were staring at her with unmistakable hurt in their eyes and walked slowly towards her. As they reached her, a familiar black head popped out and Harry joined the pair. Hermione raised her wand, but before she could utter a spell, Harry began talking.

"How could you Hermione? How could you hurt Ron like that?"

"I – I didn't mean to Harry. "

But Harry shunned her and turned away, leaving her to stare into Ron's hopeless eyes.

"R-r-riddikulus!"

Godric reached forward longingly and stroked Hermione's cheek. His hands tangled his hands in her bushy hair and he was leaning forward to press his warm lips against hers. Her senses were overwhelmed with him. Her vision blurred as she saw herself reflected in his pale blue eyes. She could feel his fast breath on her chin. She could smell cinnamon. With a primal cry, Ron leapt forward and pulled him off her, throwing him to the floor. Godric retaliated by throwing a nasty jinx his way.

"R-riddikulus."

Ron began to yell at Godric, just as Hermione dissolved into tears.

"You can't know, can you? She isn't even worth it. She's just an insufferable-"

"Riddik-"

"know-it all, buck-toothed, misfit-"

"Rid-"

"filthy mudblood with no friends!"

"RIDDIKULUS!"

The three characters melted back into the cabinet and the real Godric slammed the door, looking thunderous. Professor Snow cleared her throat loudly, she looked as if she had just witnessed a murder and seemed to choke on her words before she got them out.

"Very - very well Miss Granger. Finally, please cast a patronus charm."

Hermione couldn't take her eyes off the man in the corner. He was staring at her with an emotion that Hermione couldn't pinpoint. Somewhere between fury and betrayal.

"A what?"

"A patronus Miss Granger."

Hermione stared at the woman like she was mad. A patronus after battling a boggart, were the N.E. really that cruel?

"A patronus?"

"Yes."

Godric Gryffindor had turned away, he seemed unable to look at her. Hermione thought about kissing Ron; about how he had asked her to dance at Bill's wedding. Finally she settled on one image.

_So I took it, clicked it, and this tiny ball of light appeared. And I knew, sure enough, it floated toward me, the ball of light. And right into my chest. Straight through me. Right here. _He had _wanted_ to find her once. He _had_ found her once. She _could_ find him.

"Expecto Patronum." Her voice was calm and steady. Silver light burst from her wand and her beloved otter swam in graceful circles around her. She couldn't help but smile tearfully at its playful antics.

"You may go, Miss Granger. Godric a word please."

"Not now."

He brushed past Hermione and stormed down the corridor. She paused and then ran after him.

"Wait!"

He continued to take long strides until Hermione reached his side and grabbed his arm.

"Stop – I need to explain. Ron, he is-"

"There is nothing to explain Miss Granger. You fear what people would think of me." He snarled and then stopped.

"Just tell me this, when did you intend to tell us you were born to muggles?"

"I didn't think it would matter so much to you." She said acidly.

"You did not - Hermione! This school was formed for wizards and witches of pure heritage, and I did not realise you would stoop to falsehood."

"And I didn't realise you were so closed minded. Your house is founded on chivalry. On championing the marginalised." She was shouting now and swiped her hair behind her ear angrily.

"Closed minded?" He stopped walking. "Hermione, you forget yourself."

"I know exactly who I am, mudblood and proud of it," she snapped. "Perhaps it's you who needs to reconsider."

He stared at her and grasped her shoulders to look into her eyes.

"Hermione listen to me. Salazar – even Rowena. They must not know of this. You must promise me this."

She glared at him stubbornly until he shook her lightly and she nodded reluctantly. With a sigh, he pushed her gently to one side and continued on his journey down the corridor, leaving her to her torturous thoughts.


	14. Chapter 14: Proposed

_**Disclaimer: Still not mine…**_

"_Need to get 'Mione, need to get 'Mione, need 'Mione."_

_It was a moan, more than a request that escaped Ron's lips. He stood before the miraculously still-standing door to the room of requirement. The war was over, Harry had done it. Ron had had his doubted it ever would happen. Hermione hadn't though. Bloody genius that one. _

_He pulled open the door and stepped in to the room. Despite Voldemort being gone, it felt like some one had punched several holes in his chest. Lavender, sure he had never liked her but no one deserved her fate. Fred. Judging by the pain he felt at the loss of his brother, he wasn't sure that George would cope. Hermione. _

"'_Mione, 'Mione." He mumbled to himself. Her death was the one that really tore at his heart and pummelled his mind. He wandered through the empty room. The ash from the fiendfyre had settled and looked a lot like a blanket of snow. His foot crunched on something beneath it and he hopped back on one foot comically. His fingers sought the victim and grabbed a small shard of glass. He turned it over in his hands. Funny, that of all the things to survive, it would be something as fragile as glass. _

"_Lumos."_

_He held his wand over the glass and glimpsed his reflection in it – part of a mirror. He threw it carelessly back to the ground. He didn't want to face the guy that had abandoned the girl he loved to her death._

* * *

Hermione stared at the elegant roll of parchment that had just been delivered. Fingers fumbling, she unsealed the scroll and smoothed in out with her forearm on the table to read it. She ignored the preamble about the different grades and skipped straight to her results.

_Ancient Runes – O_

_Astronomy - O_

_Duelling – O_

_Flying – P_

_Healing – O_

_Household Charms – O_

_Potions – O_

_Transfiguration – O_

Her head swam with giddy relief; she had the O she needed in Transfiguration! Not that she wasn't just a tiny bit gutted that she had failed Flying, but she could live with that. She would just have to never tell Ron, or Harry, or Ginny, and take it to her grave. Her eyes re-focused on the paper to make sure she wasn't dreaming and she pondered the Duelling grade for the first time. Surely after the Boggart incident…_But you did everything else perfectly_, _and you did defeat it…_ a small voice reminded her timidly.

She hadn't spoken to Godric since, well since her Duelling exam. She saw him every night in her torturous dreams though. Over and over again for the past week, the boggart scenes had replayed in vivid nightmares. Hermione frowned as she thought about the tall man and abruptly pushed him out of her mind. After levitating the book she had been reading back onto the shelf, she grabbed her bag and headed towards Rowena's private study.

Hermione managed to compose herself long enough to knock smartly on the dark wooden door and wait impatiently for a response.

"Come in."

She pushed the door open eagerly.

"Professor – I did it! I got the O and -" She stopped seeing the pale, haggard look on the woman's face. Rowena looked like she was on the verge of being sick. "What is it Professor? Is it, it's not that I failed flying is it? I just – I've never been able to do it."

"No, Hermione. It is not your flying NEWT. I am just a little unwell this morning, do not concern yourself." She shuffled in her chair and then stood and embraced her awkwardly. Hermione stood very still until Rowena removed her arms.

"I just received a copy of your results Hermione. I must confess I am impressed, although I doubt Salazar will be with your P in his subject." She smiled wryly and Hermione grimaced.

"Thank you, Professor."

"Hermione, I am no longer your Professor. Please do call me Rowena."

"Yes…Rowena." After years of calling her that, it felt strange to do so to her face.

"Now, you will move directly to your staff quarters. I will give you time to settle in and then we can discuss your duties and our research. Seventh floor, the carving of the unicorn. Do you know it?"

Hermione nodded.

"Excellent, she will know to expect you. You will need your wand."

* * *

Hermione approached the unicorn dubiously. Rowena hadn't given her a password and she wondered whether she would be posed with a riddle like the Ravenclaw students. The creature was carved painstakingly into the wooden panelling and Hermione sensed her eyes on her.

"Errr…"

The unicorn stamped her hooves and brandished her horn. Remembering Rowena's words, Hermione drew her wand and held it up. Like a magnetic force, it connected to the tip of the unicorn's horn. The creature bowed her head and the panel slid across to admit her. Hermione stepped into her new room and looked around quietly.

The room was panelled in light oak, and at the centre of the right wall was a large fireplace, in which several logs blazed. A four poster bed, draped with blue sat opposite. A very big desk spread out under the window across from her. Next to it was a chest and a single, empty shelf with a piece of parchment on it. In 4 large strides, she crossed to it and plucked the note off.

_Hermione_

_I hope this room is to your taste. This shelf will summon any tome in the Hogwarts library to itself. Simply tap it and speak the name of the volume. It is a convenience I have found most useful in my studies. I hope you will too._

_RR_

"Transfiguration Theory – brilliant!" she breathed, as the book appeared on the shelf. She smiled contentedly. No more falling asleep in the library for her.

She opened the first drawer in the desk next, and was pleased to find self-replenishing ink; several reams of fresh parchment and three eagle owl quills. The next must have had an extension charm put on the inside because it contained several stoppered bottles with various powders and liquids. Hermione poked dubiously at one filled with what looked like a miniature hurricane. Finally, she turned to the chest and lifted the lid, fully expecting it to be empty. She was wrong.

Hermione leapt back with a small shriek. The house elf that was tucked inside made a distraught-sort of noise and started to beat its head against the wall.

"Glumpy is sorry lady. Glumpy was cleaning your room and then lady came in. Glumpy is sorry. Glumpy accepts punishment as lady sees fit."

"Stop – stop!" Hermione made a grab for the house elf, but it disappeared with a pop and reappeared next to the bed, where it began thumping its head on the bed post.

"So sorry lady, so very sorry."

"Stop it this instant! I command you to stop!"

Glumpy stopped, his bottom lip wobbling. Hermione sighed with relief and sunk into a heap on the floor.

"Glumpy –is that your name?"

"Yes lady, Glumpy is your house elf. Glumpy will do better next time lady-"

"It's okay Glumpy." Hermione said hurriedly, before he started punishing himself again. "What do you mean _my_ house elf? "

"You are a member of noble Hogwarts staff lady. I am here to serve you."

Hermione cringed. "Would – would you like to be free Glumpy? I can give you some clothes if you like."  
The house elf's huge eyes welled up and he twisted his ears pitifully. "Lady is not pleased with Glumpy. Glumpy will ask Renkles to find lady another house elf. Glumpy will go back to the kitchens."

"No – no, ah! I think you're great Glumpy, really." She said as kindly as she could. "I just, I don't want you to be a slave."

Glumpy's eyes seemed to grow even wider, and Hermione could see herself reflected in the giant orbs. "But Glumpy is a house elf, serving lady is Glumpy's life now."

"Right. Right." Hermione raked a hand through her unruly hair and decided that some battles were best left for another day.

* * *

After Hermione had dismissed Glumpy, promising that she would call him if she needed anything else, she went back to the wardrobe. At the moment, she was still wearing her Gryffindor robes, but she couldn't wear them as a member of staff. She rummaged through the robes and found that they were all some shade of red or gold. She smiled wryly. The founders took this house business very seriously.

She pulled out some vivid scarlet robes with golden leaves around the neckline and pulled them on. They fit snugly and the fabric was thick and warm for the winter months. With a muttered spell, she transfigured the robes into a more subtle plum colour.

"About as neutral as you can get." She murmured with satisfaction.

At that moment, there was a light rap on the door and Rowena Ravenclaw swept in. She looked considerably better than she had earlier that morning, and Hermione spent an eager hour with her discussing her duties as Transfiguration assistant. She would teach in the morning every day and tutor students who needed extra support for their OWLs and NEWTs in the afternoons as necessary. Three evenings a week would be dedicated to the study of time travel with Rowena.

Hermione's heart felt lighter than it had for weeks. She was sure that together they could find a way to send her back to Ron and Harry. _After all_, she reasoned, _time travel was obviously invented at some point_.

They walked down for lunch together, and some how Hermione managed to be seated between Godric and Helga. She sat glumly for a moment and then bristled and sat up straight in her chair. She had done nothing wrong. Her parentage was not her problem, and she regretted nothing she had said to him. Next to her, Godric had squirmed down in his seat and picking at his chicken leg half heartedly. She snorted, unable to help herself. He looked so pathetic. He glanced at her with a frown and she fell silent, flushing.

"Would you pass the bread please Miss Granger?" he asked carefully.

"Well, it's Professor Granger now actually." She snapped sarcastically.

"_Professor_ Granger, the bread if you please."

"Oh don't be ridiculous!" Hermione huffed. "You can call me Hermione, I won't bite you. It's not infectious anyway you know. You can't catch being a mugg-"

"What's not infectious dear?" Helga asked cheerfully, squeezing her ample body behind the table. Godric gave her a warning look and Hermione snapped her mouth shut.

"Oh, umm…batwing rash." She improvised eventually.

Helga nodded solemnly and began to talk about her latest soup recipe. When Hermione turned back to her lunch, Godric had disappeared. She looked at his chair sadly.

"Meeting in my office in a quarter glass." Rowena informed them on her way out.

* * *

Hermione was careful to place herself between the potions professor and a wall for the meeting. She watched patiently as the other staff members filed in and took their places along the long table that had been conjured for the occasion. Salazar slunk in and slapped Godric on the back in a friendly sort of way before taking a seat opposite him. Rowena sat at the head of the table, and Hermione was certain she caught the Ravenclaw lady staring at Salazar with a strange look on her face. She blinked, and Rowena was busy enchanting a quill to take notes for them.

The meeting was swift. Hermione found herself blushing furiously when Rowena introduced her and several members of staff clapped loudly. There was a message about two second years who had snuck firewhiskey into school; a short debate about what was appropriate for a detention and the sorting of the Quidditch training rota. Eventually, Rowena paused and her quill finished scribing her thoughts.

"Well, if that is all then?"

"One moment." The harmonious tenor voice still made Hermione shiver a little.

"Godric? There is some thing else you wish to discuss."

"Indeed." His eyes flicked around the table and eventually locked with Hermione's. She felt her heart leap unwillingly. Surely, he would not expose her. She gripped the arms of the chair tightly and gave a tiny shake of her head, pleading with her eyes. He ripped his gaze away and forced a pleasant smile at his colleagues.

"I wish to make a proposal."

"Yes, yes. Get on with it Godric." Rowena said tiredly. "I have a class to teach in half a glass."

He nodded and stood up before addressing the room in his clear tone.

"I propose that we accept those born of muggles at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

* * *

_**Okay, I know it's short and bitty, but you have no idea how much trouble this chapter gave me! Please review **_


	15. Chapter 15: Deciding

_I know it's been a while…sorry guys! Life took over. Thank you for all the recent reviews and follows, they mean a lot :)__. So in the last chapter, we saw Hermione become the Transfiguration Assistant and Godric proposed that they let muggle-borns into Hogwarts. This chapter is short – sorry! I promise I'll update again very soon._

* * *

Godric's voice rang out and echoed around the room, filling the silence. Hermione realised her mouth was hanging open and abruptly shut it. Most people in the room seemed incapable of forming words, the others didn't want to. After an uncomfortably long pause, Helga shuffled in her chair and spoke nervously.

"Godric, dear –" She barely had spoken when someone else cut in.

"Everyone but founders out. Now." Salazar's eyes glinted dangerously, but Godric returned his gaze unflinchingly. Reluctantly, Hermione joined the other staff in their silent shuffle towards the door. She glanced at Godric, but he was still rooted to his spot. Unable to help herself, she allowed her lips to whisper two small words as she passed him.

"Thank you."

If he heard her, he didn't acknowledge it.

* * *

A rhythmic rapping on her door shook Hermione fully awake. She had spent most of the day covering Rowena's classes whilst she remained in the meeting. Several times that day, Hermione had walked along the corridor, hoping to bump into the founders as they came out. When they had missed dinner, she had given up and retired to her room early. Unfortunately, sleep was a spot of starlight that danced out of her hands as she tried to catch it.

The knocking came again, more persistent this time.

She slid her legs out from beneath the blankets and shivered in the chill night air. Grabbing her night cape, she slipped it on and drew the hood up over her unruly hair. She slid the panel open, revealing Rowena. The moonlight cast an eerie, silver sheen on her hair and face. She was frowning, and swept into Hermione's room without a word, signalling for her to close the panel behind her. Rowena brandished her wand at the fireplace, sending a stream of the bluebell flames Hermione was so fond of into the grate. Only then, did she speak.

"You know why I am here, Hermione."

Hermione grimaced. _Oh stars Godric, what have you done?_

"How long have you known?"

Rowena sighed and her face softened somewhat, losing the lines that the days events had etched on it.

"Hermione, I am the most brilliant witch of my time. Even so, I am not a mind reader and you are a fine keeper of secrets. I do, however, receive very detailed notes on your NEWT examinations. That combined with Godric's performance earlier…well, suffice it to be said that I have certainty of it now."

Hermione's throat seemed to constrict and her voice came out in a squeak.

"So what happens now?"

The lady avoided looking at Hermione and instead stared into the flames as if mesmerised.

"Salazar will not allow children of a muddied blood line into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"So what happens now, professor?" Hermione persisted.

Rowena was smiling, the glow from her fire dancing over her features. Stepping closer, Hermione realised that tears were dripping steadily down her cheeks and falling onto the heavy velvet of her skirts.

"We were to be married Hermione." Rowena confessed in a dream-like voice miles away from her usual brisk tone.

" He said we would wait until the Spring, when the blossom graced the trees once more. Godric would have conducted the ceremony; Helga would have made my gown. It was settled."

"Professor, I – I don't understand."

Rowena's head turned abruptly to look at Hermione.

"Do not play games, Hermione. You know full well of whom I refer to."

"Well yes, of course." Hermione said slowly. "But why can't you still have that prof- Rowena? You and Salazar can still be married. Me being muggleborn shouldn't change that surely."

"Foolish girl." Rowena snapped, and began to pace the small room, scrubbing viciously at her eyes. "This changes everything. Do you not see? Please Hermione, you have a mind to make use of. Salazar's will is the stone to Godric's fire. Godric's passion will not be smothered, but neither can it melt rock. Do you not see Hermione? Do you not see? They cannot coexist."

She stopped, facing the wall.

"One of our founders must leave Hogwarts."

Pages from 'Hogwarts: A History' floated to Hermione's mind. They spoke of a huge argument; a disagreement over the bloodline of pupils. She knew how this story ended. Her hands flew to her mouth. _And it's all my fault. But wait…_

"Which one?" Her stomach twisted as she realised that the past, although written in her time was not here. Hadn't professor McGonagall warned her time and time again not to meddle with time?

"The founders will vote tomorrow. I, as senior founder, have the casting vote if we are equally divided."

Hermione gripped the bed frame, her knees feeling weak all of a sudden.

"Who will you…I mean, professor...who?"

Rowena's hands curved around her stomach.

"I do not know." She said simply.

Abruptly, Hermione understood. Before she could open her mouth, Rowena spoke again, bitterly.

"Yes, Hermione. You are not the only one with secrets. Yes, I carry his child. Helga of course guessed almost instantly. The men do not know. Godric…he is as a brother to me. He would not approve."

"He would understand." Hermione said desperately. "If he is like a brother."

Rowena laughed hollowly. "Mayhap. He may not need to after the 'morrow.

"No! You can't. Please professor, he's only doing this because of me. I – I called him a coward." Hermione admitted.

Rowena sighed and sat down on the edge of the large bed.

"Your charms are many Hermione, but do not allow yourself to believe that you are entirely responsible for Godric's decisions." She smiled wryly at the younger woman's flush. "He has always embodied a sense of chivalry; dumb chivalry at times, but chivalry none the less. Helga backs him with this too. It is in her character to be fair as much as it is in his to be brave."

Hermione nodded bleakly, digging her nails into the bed post as if it was the only thing anchoring her to reality.

"So you see Hermione, it is only really my vote that matters. The decision is mine. Whom do I banish from their home? "

_Your lover or your brother._ Hermione's heart wrenched_. 'Are you coming or are you staying?' Ron asked._ She knew what it was to make the kind of decision Rowena faced.


	16. Chapter 16: Discovery

**A very quick update for you again, since it was almost ready anyway. Hope you enjoy – thank you for the lovely reviews on the last chapter! Much appreciated and it's great to know what you guys are thinking.**

The morning dawned bright and clear, making Hermione frown as she drew back the drapes. It was like party hats at a funeral, today had no right to be such a beautiful day. She shrugged off her woollen nightdress and pulled on the cherry red robes Glumpy had chosen without bothering to change the colour. After pulling her hair into a twist and sticking a quill through it, she hurried down to breakfast, hoping to catch Rowena before the meeting at noon.

The Ravenclaw lady had left suddenly, mid-conversation last night. It had been as if she suddenly realised that she was asking her student, recently turned assistant for advice on the most important decision in Hogwarts history. Hermione was thoroughly exhausted, having turned over various options in her mind until the early hours of the morning.

_Salazar should go…that's the way it happened. You shouldn't meddle with time._

_But this is all your fault. Godric never would have said anything if you hadn't turned up._

_But Salazar could ruin the future of all muggleborns. Muggleborns have to be accepted at Hogwarts._

_But why does he have to go? You have the chance to change things, to make them better. Helena shouldn't grow up without a father. _

_If muggleborns weren't allowed at Hogwarts, you would never have met Ron and Harry. You wouldn't even be here in the first place. Does that mean that they have to be accepted…or will I just disappear if Rowena decides Salazar should stay?_

Oh, it made her head spin.

As she entered the Great Hall, she was ambushed by a highly excited Arabella who pulled her over to the Gryffindor table before she could utter a single protest.

"You have to tell us, Hermione you must!"

Eleanor glanced up in surprise and Hermione was tugged onto the bench opposite her.

"Hermione – should you not dine with the other professors?" She enquired mildly.

"Well, yes actually." Hermione glared at Arabella, who simply tossed her glossy braid over her shoulder with a shrug.

"We, the students, have a right to know the on-goings of our school." She declared pompously.

"We the nosy would like to, more like." Eleanor muttered darkly, spiralling honey on her oats.

Hermione sighed, and rubbed tiredly at the spot next to her temple which had begun to throb. How Arabella had discovered something was going on was anybody's guess –_ but of course, the founders missed all their afternoon lessons yesterday._

"I can't tell you anything Arabella, sorry."

Arabella stood up, practically knocking the table over in her flamboyance.

"Well." She huffed. "Well I like that. _Professor_ Hermione must not converse with mere students anymore. Oh no! Well." She stormed off, quick haughty footsteps echoing with every step.

With a groan, Hermione settled her head on her arms and slumped into the table. Eleanor gazed at her sympathetically.

"She is jealous Hermione. Do not let it worry you. But…forgive me Hermione, you look so pale. Are you unwell?"

Hermione looked up at Eleanor and saw not a hint of curiosity in her large green eyes, only concern for her friend.

"I didn't sleep very well, don't worry."

Eleanor nodded doubtfully and returned to her porridge. Suddenly Hermione needed to say it, so she knew she wasn't mad.

"Eleanor." She burst out, and then made a conscious effort to control her tone. "Eleanor, if you had to choose. Umm, between something that would really hurt a couple of people…maybe more for a short while and, well something that could hurt lots of people in the future. What would you do?"

The petite girl placed her spoon in her bowl, before locking eyes with Hermione. "I would keep to the advice that someone gave me when I was a little girl." She said quietly.

"What advice was that?" Hermione asked, hoping beyond hope it wasn't based on some old wife's tale or the like.

"Listen with all intensity to your heart, it will steer you true through the fiercest storm."

* * *

The oak door was large and straight. Carvings of lions and flames were etched into the thick, ancient wood. Hermione ran her hand over them dubiously. The lions shook their manes at her touch and one made a noise that sounded rather like a purr. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand to the iron knocker and tapped twice. There was a pause that stretched out for a long time and eventually Hermione knocked again, louder this time.

Apparently Godric was out.

Hermione had turned to walk away, when one of the lions caught her attention. It sat back on its hind legs, pawing playfully at the door ring. Hermione impulsively grasped it and twisted. The door swung open. Her heart thudded in her chest, and sounded in her ears as she considered her options. _No, you'll be in so much trouble. I don't care._ She slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.

The room was considerably larger than her own, and reminded her strongly of the Gryffindor common room, making her wonder if Godric had furnished it himself. A generous bed with rich red drapes stood in one corner, a large chest at its feet. Three armchairs were arranged around a big fireplace, in which a merry fire roared. The only other furniture in the room was a modestly sized desk which was littered untidily with various parchments, quills and books. Hermione moved instinctively towards the book and flicked through it in surprise. It was Rowena's book – the one that she must have read twenty times by now. _What on earth would Godric want with that? _Bemused, and biting back her guilt at snooping, she leafed delicately through the top layer of parchment. There were various time tables; a letter to a wizard in Wales - nothing of interest. She placed them back on the desk reluctantly, knocking something off as she did so.

Muttering under her breath about untidiness, she scooped the object up and turned it over in her hands. She held it up and gazed at her reflection in the fragment of mirror. How strange. She stared into it for a moment, watching the flames flicker behind her. _Just like that night when –  
_Mumbled voices reached her. Panicking, she shoved the mirror piece back on to the desk and dashed for the door. She slipped out and eased the door shut. Belatedly, she prayed that the lions would not betray her as rapidly as Umbridge's cats had. Footsteps sounded, and Hermione cast a speedy muffilato charm on her shoes before running around the corner in the opposite direction.

* * *

_Ron leapt backwards with a yelp, landing practically on top of Harry. Fortunately, Harry's reflexes were finely honed from his years of Quidditch practise and he dodged the collision easily._

_"Tread on some glass?"_

_"I saw her Harry."_

_Harry ran a hand through his messy hair with a frown. It had been almost 3 months since the night that Hermione had died and this was the eighteenth time they had returned to the room of requirement. The ash had settled, and they had eventually cleared most of it. All that remained was a scattering of mirror fragments. He couldn't help but worry that Ron might never recover from this. When Hermione had died, Harry felt like a piece of him died. They had been through so much, she had saved his life so many times…she was his sister. The only one who stuck with him when even his best friend had deserted him. Ron hadn't just lost Hermione though. There was Fred too. Harry couldn't begin to imagine the agony. He knew Ron blamed himself for both deaths._

_"Ron – Hermione's gone. You know she is."_

_Ron glared at him, a haunted look in his eyes._

_"I saw her." He pronounced each word through gritted teeth._

_"Right, right." Harry held up his hands in defeat, not wanting to argue. He had hoped clearing the room would give Ron closure. _Great idea Harry._ If anything, it had just made Ron more desperate, more insane. Harry's heart sunk as he watched Ron scoop the glass towards himself. _Please Ron, I can't lose you too.


End file.
